My Guardian Destroyer
by Natalia Mazaur
Summary: Isabella Swan never believed in angels. She scoffed at anything religious. But as her own angel tries to harm her in it's fury, will she finally believe in what was always there? AU.
1. Preface

**THIS IS IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ! Author's Note: All right people, I did it. I finally replaced my decrepit computer with a all new high-speed computer! Woo! **

**Anyways, this is a completely different story than what I usually write. For starters, most of my stories are fluffy. This, not so much. It's not depressing, but it's not vampires cooking and going to the beach, either. Secondly, this is intended to be an actual _story_, not just a one-shot. Thirdly, this is AU story, something I have NEVER done. The idea to make this story is based off of a dream my mom had about angels. **

**Now, I am in NO WAY trying to upset people. I know religion is a touchy subject, but I thought this was a good idea. I am NOT saying that anything in this story is true, nor am I trying to negate what you believe. Believe it or not, this story isn't going to be full of religious things like Jesus and God. This is purely about angels, and what would happen if they suddenly stopped protecting you. **

**My mom has always believed in Guardian Angels, and I do, too. I have nearly died _way_ too many times (falling down a flight off stairs as a baby, nearly drowning in the ocean, etc,) to not believe that something has helped me. Because of that, my mom and I always thank our angels for taking care of us. But my mom had a dream where she didn't appreciate her angel, and it started causing her harm. I thought it would be a good plot line. **

**I am not a deeply religious person. I believe that something is there, but I don't have a name for it. I'm more spiritual. That being said, I'm not trying to upset anyone. If you don't want to read this, you can either look at my other stories which are completely religion-free, or you can just ignore me. I'm not going to be blasting any type of religion, (Catholic, Mormon, Muslim, Buddhist, etc) so don't get pissy. This is something that _I_ thought would be good. And mixing it with Twilight just makes it better for me. **

**Also, this is only a Preface to the actual story. I want to see how this story is recieved before I really start posting chapters on here. So leave a review, telling me why or why not I should continue this, and then I will decide.**

**Sorry, this has been a painfully long Author's note, but I need to make sure that you all don't think I'm trying to make fun of your beliefs, or that I'm trying to offend anyone. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, and I do not own Twilight.**

PREFACE.

I should have never denied it. Looking back now, it was so obvious. But I had been blind, and now it would cost me greatly.

I'd had my close brushes with Death. Car accidents, fires, stalkers. But I lived through it all. _Someone's watching out for you_, people would say. I never believed them. To believe them would be to accept that there was a higher power, and I just couldn't do it. After years of torture, I'd long given up on the idea of anything protecting me.

I'd constantly refused the opinions of people saying that something was looking out for me, mocked the idea mercilessly. There was no such thing.

But what if there was?

As I stood in the cold forest, snow falling gently to the ground as the wind whipped and stuck my hair to my bloodied face, I questioned this epiphany.

What if, there had always been something there, fighting off the accidents, fires, and criminals? What if, after years of being ridiculed and rejected, the higher being got upset? If it suddenly _stopped_?

I couldn't ponder the idea for very long. Across the wintery ground, the figure trembled and shook with it's fury. The angel's shoulders tensed before it sprung at me, flying over the ground faster than my mind could catch.

I closed my eyes.


	2. Beginnings

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for the great response to this! I got great reviews, (when I wasn't expecting even _one_) and the amount of PMs was stunning. I had some awesome talks with you guys, and to the ones who reviewed but didn't sign in, I thank you guys, too. **

**And as one of you requested, I'm going to keep this A.N. short. **

**All right guys, due to the great response to this and the amount of story alerts you guys put this on, I give you the next chapter! Keep in mind this is a working process for me, and there might be kinks, but I'm working them out! **

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, and I own nothing.**

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><p>~Playlist~<p>

"Under Attack" - Devola.  
>"Sullen Girl" - Fiona Apple.<p>

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><p>The cold tile of the floor felt like it was burning through the soles of my shoes as I waited nervously for the doctor. It was that time of the month again, for me to go to the hospital and see if my body was still functioning properly. I tapped my foot impatiently.<p>

I despised hospitals. When you were in one, it either meant you were dead, or about to be dead. Or that was always how it was for me. Whenever I was wheeled through those doors, I was almost always half-way in my grave. Somehow I kept getting pulled out before someone could completely bury me.

The basic black and white clock on the wall ticked painfully as I sat on the uncomfortable bed. My foot kept fidgeting, and I raked my hand through my hair agitatedly.

Before I decided to get up and just _leave_ this terrible place, my personal hero came waltzing through the door.

"Bella, it's good to see you again. How are you doing today?" Doctor Cullen asked, pulling out a pen and my health records.

"Why don't you tell me?" I responded, though I relaxed incredibly upon seeing him. That meant that I could go home soon.

Carlisle Cullen was a wonderful doctor, ridiculously smart, and an over-all good person. He became my full time doctor ever since the fire that took my parent's lives, but somehow spared me. I was rushed to the hospital with lungs full of soot, and Carlisle saved my life. After that, he was always been putting me back together whenever I got broken.

Though every month, Carlisle made me go to the hospital to be positive that I hadn't killed myself yet. Sentimental doctor. Who knew?

Carlisle smiled and pulled out a small chair to sit next to the bed, the wheels on the stool squealing as they ran across the hard floor. "Everything looks perfectly normal. Obviously no external damage, your internals look good, and your lungs are doing wonderfully."

Ever since the fire, and the resulting soot and smoke in my lungs, I have had asthma and over-all breathing problems. Carlisle always fussed over my lungs.

"Great, I'm fine, just like I'm fine every _other_ time I come here, so I'm just going to let myself out if you don't mind," I hopped out of the lumpy bed and rushed to the door. I hated being rude to Carlisle, but I just had to get out of there. It almost felt like the walls were closing in.

"Bella, wait," he pleaded, and I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I turned back to look at him, and his hand was outstretched to me in a helpless manner.

"What?" I muttered.

Carlisle frowned, his hand falling to his side. "I think there's something we need to discuss. Please, sit down," he gestured to the bed.

I stared at him warily.

"Bella, please, it will only take a moment, then you may leave," he said in what I _hoped_ was a sincere tone. I sighed before letting go of the door and slinking back to the bed. I plopped down unceremoniously and quirked my eyebrow, signalling him to continue.

Carlisle smiled and nodded his head in thanks for my co-operation before talking.

"I know you don't like talking about this, but it has been quite a few years since the - _accident_," he murmured, and my back instantly tensed up. He meant the fire.

"And?" I challenged.

"And you don't seem to be getting better," he said mournfully, not looking in my eyes.

I was confused. "You just said I was in perfect condition! Have you been lying to me for the past seven years about my health?"

Carlisle's eyes shot up to mine, shocked. "No, no! Of course not! I meant that you are not improving emotionally. You're closed off, you shy away from touch, you refuse help from anyone. How are we supposed to be there for you when won't let anyone in?"

My teeth clenched together with an audible _snap_, and I spoke through them. "I don't _need_ anyone's help."

His face softened and his voice took on a patronizing tone. "Of course you think you don't, but you don't see what the people around you see. We just want what's best for you Bella." His eyes bore into mine, and I could only see sincerity. As much as his concern meant to me, I still questioned him through tight lips.

"And what _exactly_ would this help entitle?"

Carlisle blew out a breath of air before straightening his shoulders. "I was hoping you'd see a therepist."

I shot out of my chair, nearly toppling it over. "Are you _insane_? You want to send me to a shrink?" I shouted, completely enraged. I swore, I saw red bleeding into my vision.

"Bella, I think it would be best. They could help you heal _emotionally_, something that you have not done." Carlisle said as he cautiously approached me like I was a rabid animal. If I wasn't so infuriated, I would have found it funny. But not today.

I backed away from his advances and stomped to the door. "Well, I'm _so sorry_ that I just can't seem to be getting better. I guess poor Bella is just unfixable, right?"

"Isabella, I never said that! I simply said -"

I cut him off. "Save it. I don't even want to hear you waste your breath saying it." I reached the door and grasped the doorknob, the cold metal biting into my over-heated flesh. I turned back to Carlisle, who was still walking towards me slowly with a saddened expression on his handsome face.

"Thank you, _Doctor_," I sneered. "You've been such a help to me. Have a nice day." I wrenched the door out of my way and pratically started sprinting down the corridor, through the lobby and out into the parking lot. I didn't stop running until I was at my beloved old Chevy. Panting, I jerked the rusty red door open and hopped inside before even glacning back towards the hospital.

Carlisle was standing at the entrace doors, his face pained as he shouted at me to come back and talk about it. I couldn't listen anymore.

I stabbed the key into the egnition, and the ancient truck roared to life. I stomped on the gas and it took the car a few moments before it even responded, but it finally started running.

I doubted that Carlisle was so set on having this conversation that he would throw himself under my back tires to stop me, so I didn't even glance in his direction as I peeled out of the parking lot.

My hands shaky on the steering wheel, I let out a huge breath that I had been holding the entire time I was at the hospital. I should have been happy that I was out of that God-forsaken place for at least another month, but I wasn't.

The guilt slowly started to creep in, and before my eyes, the road started to blur. It confused me for a moment before I felt the warm tears trekking down my cold face.

I knew I shouldn't drive like this, at least for the sake of the innocent person I was bound to kill in my recklessness, so I pulled over on the shoulder of the road and finally broke down.

I cried for being so cruel to Carlisle for his genuine concern, I cried for my actual _need_ to go see this therepist, and I cried for my stubborness, because no matter what, I knew I wouldn't go talk to this person.

And why should I? I've always been excellent at repressing my tormenting thoughts. There was no need to bring up such painful memories. I wouldn't.

The sky was dark before I finally decided to start the car again. With my eyes still bleary, I rolled my truck through the empty road, hiccuping on the sobs I tried to repress, not quite working.

The big, bustling city of Seattle welcomed me home after my long drive from Forks. I breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed into my seat.

The large buildings and busy streets might have seemed intimidating to other people, but it was so beautiful and calming to me. I loved the sharp, wonderful edges of the stores and resturaunts, the activity that was always around, the way that even though it was under near-constant clouds, it was still somehow bright, everything.

Forks was nothing of the sort. I hated the small, seemingly innocent town with every fiber of my being. How there was nothing to do, the high school that was nothing less than torture, how everyone knew every last thing about you, whether you were willing to let them know or not. They way everything was so unsettlingly familiar, when I was trying so hard to forget.

I often begged Carlisle to quit from his job in the hospital there and ask him to work in the one in Seattle. I'd try to entice him with promises of how much the doctors wanted his expertice there, and how much larger his salary would be than his measly pay at Forks. But he'd always gently refuse, saying his heart lay in that small, horrifying town.

Honestly, besides the reason of loving Carlisle so dearly and wanting him close to me incase something were to happen, I - selfishly - just didn't want to ever step foot in that town ever again.

Not if I could help it.

I surprised myself as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. In my reverie, I hadn't even realized that I had all ready arrived at my home. I shook my had as I turned off the car, almost as if I could clear out the clouds in my mind.

The rain was absolutely _pouring_, so by the time I jumped out of the truck and ran to the front doors of building, I was thoroughly soaked. I stood in the lobby as I catched my breath, the water running off my jacket and onto the waxed wooden floor. _Plink, plink, plink._

The receptionist standing behind the counter glanced at me before wrinkling her nose up in distaste at the watery mess I was making on the floor of the lobby.

I smiled sheepishly before slinking to the elevator doors, my wet sneakers squeaking the entire way there. The heavy metal doors opened and I walked in happily, grateful to be out of sight. Before the automatic doors shut, I could see the woman behind the counter picking up a phone and paging the staff to come and clean up the wet floor. I sighed again.

_First floor . . . second floor . . . third floor . . . _The numbers lit up dully as the elevator acsended, the metal box gliding smoothly through the building. Luckily no one got on with me. I didn't think I could manage standing next to anyone in this tight space, glaring at opposite sides of the cage we were in awkwardly.

The elevator came to a stop, a little too abruptly for my tastes. _Fourteenth floor_, the little glowing button informed me. I snorted and shuffled out, walking towards my apartment. If this was the fourteenth floor, than I was a parrot. The building's floor numbers are 11th floor, 12th floor, _14th_ floor, 15th floor, so on. They glossed over the thirteenth floor in this building like a plague. Apparently customers refused to live on the thirteen level of the builing, superstitious fools that they were. Slapping the number fourteen over the original and declaring that there was never a thirteenth level.

What difference does calling it make? _A rose by any other name would smell as sweet_, I mused as I rounded the hallway, almost to my apartment now.

I didn't even know why people were so unnerved by it, either. It's just a number. It's not like it can hurt you. I shrugged to myself in contempt as I unlocked my door and pushed my way in.

I threw my keys on the short table next to the door and dumped my jacket on the wooden ground. _I'll pick it up later_, I told myself. I walked into the kitchen to grab some water from the refrigerator when I passed the red blinking button on my house phone, signalling I had a new voice message. I pressed the button, and the automated female voice came out.

_You have one new message_, it crackled, then a smooth, desperate voice spilled out.

"Isabella please, it's Carlisle," his beautiful anguished voice said. My heart squeezed a little in guilt. The message continued, "We need to talk about this. You know I only want what's best for you, and I wouldn't even suggest this doctor if she wasn't amazing at her job. Please Bella, call me back, at the very least to tell me you arrived home safe in this storm."

I glanced out the long window that stretched along my living room wall, and there was indeed a wretched storm brewing. I bit my lip, unsure of what to do.

"I suppose that's everything. Please Bella, just consider this. _Please_," he begged one last time before it cut off, the sudden silence in the room poignant.

"I can't," I whispered.

My vision went fuzzy again, and I wiped at the tears angrily. I stomped out of the kitchen and into my bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind me. When the door collided with the frame, Emmett lifted his massive head off my pillow and blinked at me groggily.

My beautiful, loyal, goofy Golden Retriever was sprawled diagonally across my bed, and even then his big feet hung off the side. The relaxed look made me think of how far we had come.

I reminisced of the day I found him.

I was walking down a street in Port Angeles, the rain feeling like a waterfall. I had my jacket pulled up over my head in an attept to cover myself from the torrential down-pour as I rushed to my car. I rounded a corner, almost at my car when I came across a group of teenage boys. They were gathered around in a semi-circle, their gazes trained on something on the ground as they kicked their feet at the unknown object.

Concerned, I stalked towards the boys until I was close enough that I could see over one's shoulder.

Huddled on the wet concrete was a mass of trembling, bloody golden hair. Realization dawned on me, and hot fury blosmed in my brain, tinting my vision in red. It was a dog.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.

Their heads jerked up from the animal on the ground, and their faces showed many different emotions. Some looked nervous at being caught in the act, some smirked at me, and the others simply continued beating the dog as if I wasn't even there.

Anger and disbelief boiling in my veins, I charged towards the group while pulling out my phone to call the police. As I dialed, I also took out the small can of mace I carried in my jacket pocket.

The boys focused on the phone and listened to me tell the dispatcher that they were attacking animals and possibly people, and their instincts kicked in. They started to run away, but not before one boy stopped and spat in the direction of the battered dog before joining his friends, laughing as he went.

I tried to discribe what the teenagers were wearing and told them what street I was on, and the dispatcher told me they would send a patrol car out.

Hanging up, I finally reached the animal and bent down to get a closer look. I didn't know if it was even alive. I put my fingers in front of it's nose, and it was indeed breathing.

Moving cautiously, still thinking the dog may bite, I rested my hand on it's side. It flinched violently before staring up at me, it's large brown eyes terrified.

It was in that moment that I knew I couldn't leave it.

Trying to be as careful as possible, I slid my hand under the side the dog was laying on. The poor animal whimpered pathetically.

I picked it up and started walking awkwardly towards my truck, which was - mercifully - only a few yards away. After having more trouble than necessary in trying to open up the passenger side door, I laid the dog gingerly across the bench seat before running around the car and jumping in the driver's seat.

After a painfully long drive to the Seattle veterinarian clinic, the beaten dog was treated while I paced in the waiting room.

Sometime after two hours of biting my nails, the vet came up to me and said that the animal had three broken ribs and a broken leg, and had lost a lot of blood, but would survive. They wanted to keep him over-night to check on him regularly, but said I could pick him up the next day, to which I agreed.

And so our friendship began. After putting up countless flyers in Port Angeles and ads in the newspaper of a lost dog and having no one respond, I decided to keep him, affectionately naming him Emmett.

The first few months were difficult, though. He was skittish and flinched at everything I did, whether I walked by him or pet him softly on his head, but I was dead-set on making him happy and calm. It took quite a bit of patietence, - and dog treats - but he started to come around.

And as his bones healed, so did his heart. He soon became confident of my love for him, and he trusted me unconditionally.

And ever since, we've been stuck together like glue.

I was snapped out of my reverie as the sound of Emmett's massive tail hitting the mattress heavily cleared my head. I smiled and walked towards the bed before plopping down on the side, rubbing my hand down his chest gently.

"Sorry Em, was I not paying attention to you?" I cooed, scratching behind his ears. He sneezed and placed his head on my lap, nuzzling into my stomach. I laughed.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I curled up against the headboard with Emmett in my lap and dove into a book, hoping to forget today's miseries, if only for a moment.

After forty minutes of peaceful reading and listening to Emmett's snoring, my eyes started fighting to stay open, the black font on the pages dancing and shimmering in front of me with my weariness. I weaved in and out of consciousness, the lines of reality and dreams blurring.

When I gave into the exhaustion, disturbing visuals flooded my mind. Vivid dreams of figures running, people screaming hysterically, tears flowing, and finally, flames.

_The fires licked up the old wooden home slowly, leaving nothing but soot and ash in it's wake. Everything I once knew and took for granted, burning._

_The night was pitch black, not even the stars illuminating the sky. The only light came from the house that was once a sanctuary, now a coffin to the ones I so desperately loved. I looked around pleadingly, begging someone, somehow, to fix this, but everything besides the fire was simply black shadows to me. People were screaming, their voices over-lapping each other until they became a shrieking hum in my ears._

The voices came louder.

_"Get them out of there!" _

_"Where's Isabella?" _

_"Call 911!"_

_"How did this happen?" _

_"Everyone is dead!" _

That was always the point when I would start screaming.

I bolted out of the bed, screeching and sweating. Poor Emmett didn't waste a moment before snapping into attention, his hackles raised and snarls ripping from his barred teeth viciously as he swept his eyes along the empty room, looking for the threat.

I ran my hand down his ridged back, hoping to calm him, but I had started hyperventilating and he fed off my fear and remaind on alert.

I just couldn't get a hold of myself. Even though these nightmares assaulted my subconscious on a nightly basis, they always left me terrified and unsettled, no matter if I expected them or not. Some nights the dreams were so bad I'd scream so loudly that my neighbors would complain to the manager about me. The nuisance.

I grabbed Emmett and wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his soft golden fur, beginning to cry. Emmett knew this scenario fairly well since it occured nearly every night. His body finally relaxed, and he snuggled closer to me as I sobbed against him.

Sometimes Emmett seemed more human than animal. He understood my emotions more clearly than must people I knew. I didn't know what I'd do without him.

After endless hours of tears, I sank into a dreamless slumber, which was much less disturbing, but much more lonely. I was almost grateful when my alarm clock broke me out of my uncomfortable sleep, but not enough that I didn't hit the _off_ button with more force than necessary.

I stretched and groaned, and Emmett yawned widely next to me. I smiled and got out of bed.

And with that we sunk into our usual routine. I got myself some cereal while making a bowl of Kibbles for Emmett, though I always put a few pieces of bacon in the bottom of his bowl as a treat.

After eating breakfast, taking some pills for my asthma, and walking Emmett quickly around the block where he made good friends with the fire hydrant, I was out the door and off to my job.

The small book store was a quaint little place, one that I adored. I had gone there all the time as a child, and when I was nine I swore I would work here when I was older. I guess I got my wish.

"Hey Sara," I called to the little head of blonde curls that I could see peeking over a bookshelf. She jumped in surprise, and the sound of hard-backs hitting the floor made me cringe.

"Shoot, damn it. Um, hi, Bella." She murmured back, trying to clean the mess up before our boss Mindy could come over and start barking out orders to fix it. I walked over to help her, and we quickly had the books back on the right shelves.

I handed her the last book. "What's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

She puffed out a breath of air, trying to blow a stray curl out of her face. "Well, we have a new order of books coming in today, so you're looking at what we're going to be doing for the next six hours," she said, sweeping her arm out dramatically at the empty shelves. I groaned and she rolled her eyes, giggling.

For the next five hours, it was nothing but pulling books out of boxes and making sure they were stacked properly on shelves. I must admit, when I was a young child begging to work here, I thought I would more or less just sit and read all the books in the store instead of actually _working_. Oh, the simple minds of children.

But at least the time passed quickly with talked and laughed throughout the entire anfternoon, just like we always did on slow days.

Sara picked up another book out of one of the boxes and was about to put it on the shelf when she paused and stared at it in her hand.

"What is it?" I asked, while sorting through another box.

She sighed, and her eyes took on a dreamy look. "I just like this book, that's all."

That piqued my interest. Even though Sara worked in a book store, she didn't exactly enjoy actual _reading_ so much.

"Oh? What's it about?"

"Angels."

I froze, still crouched down and picking through the box, and it took me a moment before I could get my paralyzed muscles to move again.

Sara noticed my hesitation. "What's wrong?"

I gathered a few books into my arms and started stocking them on the shelves, trying to be nochalant. "Nothing's wrong," I muttered. I couldn't meet her gaze.

She grinned widely, apparently having fun with my discomfort. "No really, what is it? Do you not like the author?"

"No, that's not it."

She frowned. "Well, do you not like the plot, then? I think the idea of angels saving the world is cool."

"You would," I grumbled, hoping she'd drop the subject.

She started getting frustrated, and she stopped what she was doing and put her hands on her hips. "Okay, you went cold on me. What did I say? Did I offend you?"

"No," I hissed.

"Well, _what_ then? Do you have a problem with angels? Is that it?"

I squirmed under her gaze, and again I was surprised at how well Sara could hit so close to the target, even if she was aiming or not. I remaind silent.

She grew irritated with my silence and unleashed on me. "You _do_ have a problem with it, don't you? What do you have against angels? You know they protect you and keep you safe-"

I had to cut her off. "Will you just _stop_?" I yelled, throwing down the book I was holding. "Jeez, you're like a dog with a bone! I don't believe in angels! There, are you happy?"

I jerked the box off the floor and made my way to another shelf, trying to get as far away from Sara as I possibly could in this small little building.

Of course, as soon as I blew up on her, I felt terrible. Sara really was my best friend, and I knew she was only curious. I heaved out a sigh, drained.

As if on cue, Sara poked her head around the wooden shelf and stared at me and gave me her best puppy dog face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad."

I sighed again before smiling gently. "I know, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. But Sara, I really don't believe in angels."

"But _why_?" She asked sadly, her lower lip pouting out. "Don't you know that they protect you no matter what? That they always keep you safe?"

I just barely stopped myself from snorting, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings again, but as it was I still made a choking sound.

"I'm sorry if I find that hard to believe, Sara. You'll forgive me if I say that I haven't had anyone protecting me."

"But Bella, someone _is_ protecting you. How else would you still be alive if there wasn't anybody watching over you?"

I stared her in the eye, and I tried to make my voice as gentle as possible. "I'm sorry Sara, but I just don't believe there is. I respect your beliefs, but I personally don't believe in that stuff. Now please, this isn't the time or place to talk about stuff like this. Can we just drop it?"

Her brow furrowed, and I could tell she had more to say, but mercifully, she let it go.

We both wandered off to work in different areas after that, the atmosphere around us still strange. I sighed as I thought that I would have to make it up to her later.

After a while of relaxing silence, Mindy came out from behind the cash register and started barking orders.

"Isabella!" Mindy shouted, which was completely unnecessary as she could just speak at a normal level and I could easily hear her. Her voice is kind of hard to miss.

"Yes ma'am?" I tried not to sound bored.

She gestured towards the back of the store. "There are some more boxes that need to be unpacked, especially on the higher shelves. Grab the ladder and stock them," she said and turned back around to the register with her back to me, and I saluted her before marching off. I heard Sara giggle quietly.

I know it's bad to disrespect your boss, but it's hard to take Mindy seriously. What with her bleached blonde hair to her unnaturally long finger nails, or the fact that she has absolutely _no_ work ethic. She could run this place by herself, but she hired Sara and I so she wouldn't have to actually work.

Pathetic.

I reached the last bit of unstocked shelves and sighed. I grabbed the box that was sitting on the floor and the ladder we used for the shelves back here that were too high for us to reach normally.

I climbed the old, rickety ladder cautiously with the box tucked under my arm until I reached the top, where I sat the box on the ladder and unloaded the books.

That was how it went for the next hour. From the box, grab the books, put them on the shelves, repeat. Nothing changed until I reached the book that had sparked the eariler argument. I looked at the picture of two angels embracing on the cover, their wings wrapped around each other, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Ridiculous," I sneered.

I wasn't ready for when the ladder buckled underneath me.

I fell off and slammed down onto the floor, landing awkwardly on my wrist.

"Ow!" I whimpered, clutching my injured arm to my chest. I didn't think it was broken, or even sprained. Just bruised. But damn, it hurt.

"What happened?" Sara shrieked, running up to me and frantically fluttering her hands around. It almost made her look like a fairy.

"I . . . _fell_," I murmured, rubbing my wrist while I glared at the ladder that was laying next to me along with the box of books that was now scattered everywhere.

Mindy's eyes locked in on my wrist. "Did you break that?" She said sharply, and I resisted the urge to laugh. She wasn't even remotely worried about me, she was just scared I'd sue her. As if I'd want her twenty bucks and a pack of gum.

After I assured them that I was perfectly fine, they started picking up the books that had fallen, and I stared at the ladder. It just made no _sense_.

Mindy tossed her hair over her shoulder and glared over at me. "Isabella, I think it would be best if you went home for the rest of the day. Just so you don't hurt yourself anymore than you already have." It wasn't a suggestion.

"Fine." I got up and grabbed my bag, already heading for the door. Sara ran up behind me, concern written all over her oval face.

"Are you sure you can drive with your hand? I could give you a ride home," she offered, her blue eyes peeking over her glasses that were sliding down her nose.

I smiled. "No, I'm okay. I just bruised it, I'm fine. Though I'm sorry you have to clean up that mess now."

She waved my comment off, pushing me towards the door now. "Don't even think about that. Just go home, put a pack of ice on your wrist so it doesn't swell, take some Tylenol and watch some TV."

I grinned ang drew her into a hug. "That sounds like a good idea to me. Bye, Sara," I said as I walked out.

"Bye!" She called, waving. I hurried to my car, the clouds starting to close in, just waiting to start the down pour. Hopefully they would hold off until I got back to the appartment.

I hopped into the truck and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, heading straight for home.

When I was stopped at a red light, my mind began to wander back to when I fell. It's not like the ladder folded under my weight. It was an old ladder, sure, but it was a _sturdy_ one. And I was very balanced on it, not even on the verge of falling off.

_It just makes no sense_, I thought as I the light turned green and I started going forward. _Honestly, it was almost like something _kicked_ the ladder out from under me_ -

The sound of a horn blaring jerked me out of my thoughts, and my head swiveled to the the passenger side window where a pair of headlights were shining, coming at me head-on.

I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

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><p><strong><em>Reviews make my world go round, and makes me write faster.<em>**


	3. Waking Up

**A.N: Hello my beautiful lovelies! You all have been so wonderfully amazing to me and this story, so I've just had to get this chapter out as soon as possible, which was _still_ pretty late, in my opinion. So here it is! It's not as long as the first chapter, but now I definitely know where I'm going with the story, so the next chapters will be out a lot sooner. I'm still working out the kinks, though, so feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong! :) **

**This story is un-betaed (is that the right term?) by the way. Any mistakes are totally mine. But if you want to help me out, just say so. :) **

**And lastly, to one of my best friends, Roxanne, who reads this story all the time, will you _please_ stop messing with my profile picture? She has the password to my account, so she goes on there and changes the picture almost daily. I don't even know where she gets those pictures of me! I miss my old icon that was a funny picture of a cat. :(  
>So Roxxi, now that you've read it on a freaking <em>author's note<em>, will you please stop screwing with it? Thanks. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer and I do not own any of her creations. **

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"Trouble" - Ray Lamontagne  
>"My Own Summer (Shove it)" - Deftones.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Water. Water, everywhere. <em>

_The burning sting in my lungs seared through my chest, bursting sparkling dots before my eyes._

_I thrashed against the hand that held my head under the water, but the grip only tightened against my futile struggling. _

_As the oxygen in my lungs depleated, I involuntarily gasped, the water flooding in my mouth and throat before settling in my chest. Crushing black creeped in on the edges of my visison. _

_The hand clenched in my hair suddenly disappeared and I lurched backwards out of the water, liquid flowing from my mouth and nose as I choked. _

_I clutched the side of the tub that was almost my grave, the cold porcelain burning my hands. _

_"You shall be cleansed," Esme hissed into my ear, her voice sharp like a steel blade. _

The weight in my chest . . . I couldn't breathe. Too much water.

Voices began to float into my mind through the murky darkness that now surrounded me.

"Get her in the ambulance!" The sound of doors slamming, and a siren.

"What's her heart rate?" My body was weightless for a moment, before being weighed down again. Bright lights were illuminated in front of my closed eye-lids.

"Get her stabilized!" The sound of a slow, irregular beeping. More feet scuffling around.

"Isabella! Bella!" A familiar voice, commanding my attention. Even so, I could feel myself slipping, drifting in and out of consciousness, the dead weight in my chest getting heavier.

"_Isabella!_"

A voice I didn't recognize seared thorugh my ears with it's lovely tones, lifting the crushing black veil from my eyes. And with the clarity came the pain. Searing pain, radiating from the crown of my head down to the soles of my feet.

I cried out in agony, and I heard collective gasps from whomever was near me. I couldn't focus on them, for whatever I was laying on was moving at an alarming speed.

"Bella! Bella, can you hear me?" The familiar voice again. I tried opening my eyes, and Carlisle's horrified face greeted me. Around me were other people, all of them focused and stoic. What were all those wires and tubes for?

"Bella, look at me!" Carlisle demanded, and I squinted into his direction. He was running along side the bed I was on, which didn't make sense. Why was my bed moving? Why did it have rails on the sides?

I must have spoken my confused thoughts aloud, because Carlisle said, "Isabella, you were in a car accident."

Car accident? _What?_ When? As if my own brain were answering my question, the memories came swarming back. Pressing on the gas when the light turned green, rolling down the street at the right speed. The car that came out of nowhere and the headlights that would haunt my dreams for years. The ear-splitting sound of crunching metal. Everything went fuzzy after that.

Carlisle continued. "We're not sure how severe the injuries are. We're getting you in the ER as fast as we can . . ." His voice started to wean off, like someone was turning down a radio. My body got warm and I was suddenly desperate to sleep.

"Isabella, keep your eyes open! Bella . . ."

The lights faded out.

~)o(~

Off-white.

I always hated that color. I hated it even more since it was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again. The ugly but familiar walls signalled I was in the hospital, but I couldn't think of anything else. My mind felt heavy and slow.

Reality came back to me much easier this time, though. Now, I couldn't feel the sheer agony that accompanied me the first time I woke up. Now I was numb, blissfully so. I couldn't even wriggle my toes.

Something told me that that was probably a bad thing. What if I was paralyzed? I couldn't bring myself to look down at my body, keeping my eyes trained on the cracks in the ceiling. I think I choked out a sob in my fear.

"Bella? Honey, can you hear me?" Carlisle's fatherly voice said from somwhere close to me.

I turned my head slowly to my left and blonde hair and blue eyes flooded my brain, instantly making me feel safe.

Painful tears sprung to my eyes. "Carlisle," I began, my voice scratchy, and he cut me off.

"Shhh, it's all right now. Try to save your breath and relax and I'll explain, okay?" I'm not sure how I managed it, but I nodded my head in agreement.

Carlisle leaned back into his chair, sighing as he ran his hand through his gold locks, looking exhausted.

He raised his tired eyes to mine and began. "I didn't go into work on Tuesday, because it was one of my vacation days, and I-"

"Wait, Tuesday?" I broke into his sentence, confusion coloring my voice. "Don't you mean today?"

Carlisle smiled at me sadly and shook his head. "No, Bella. The accident happened on Tuesday. Today is Thursday. You've been unconscious for two days."

My eyes widened almost comically, and I had to bite back tears. What _happened_ to me?

Carlisle watched my internal struggle before asking quietly, "Do you need a moment?"

I shook my head and raised my hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen, trying not to disrupt the wires hooked into me.

"No, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I won't interrupt again, please continue."

He nodded and chewed on his lip, almost like he was debating what to say. "Like I was saying, I was at home, waiting nervously for a certain girl to call me after she stormed out of my office the day before," he stated, his eyes staring at me pointedly and I could only give a weak, sheepish smile in return.

"And instead of getting a call from _you_, the hospital in Seattle called me, saying they had a girl with them that was half-dead, trying to refuse their help and mumbling _'Call Doctor Cullen, call Doctor Cullen_'." I had said that? I didn't even vaguely remember that.

Carlisle continued. "Of course, I knew they were talking about you, and I had a heart attack. They said you had been in a horrific car crash and that you needed immediate care. I rushed to the hospital as fast as I could and told them to operate on you until I got there, and then I would take over."

_Could doctors even do that?_ My mind questioned. _Can they just swoop in on another hospital and take over a patient, even if he _was_ my doctor?_

I swept my gaze over Carlisle. He was calm and quiet, but he exuded power and grace, making him seem much older than his 30 years of age. If he was this intimidating when he was collected, I couldn't imagine him if he were scared and angry. I shuddered.

His quick eyes caught my movement. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. You were saying?" I prodded.

"Oh, yes of course," he murmured, then cleared his throat. "When I finally arrived after a _horrifically_ long drive to the hospital, I rushed into your operating room, and I. . ." he trailed off, his face twisting painfully like someone was burning him. He scrubbed his hands over his face roughly like he was trying to rip the emotion from his face, then he flopped them down onto the side of my bed.

I placed one of my wire-constricted hands over his delicately. "And you what?" I asked gently.

He looked down at our joined hands before squeezing them. "And I couldn't recognize you," he whispered, his eyes still locked on our fingers. "You were so covered in blood, I couldn't even tell were it was coming from. I thought you were dead for sure."

"What then?"

"What else? I jumped into the surgery that was going on. After we cleaned most of the blood off of you, it really didn't look so terrifying."

Ah, here it came. I could feel that he was going to tell me about my injuries, and I just didn't know if I could handle it. What if he told me that I had caused some sort of irreparable damage? I still hadn't looked down at myself, terrified of what I might see.

Carlisle went quiet, and the clock ticking in the corner suddenly sound like a hammer against steel with the silence in the room. I counted to a hundred in my mind. Still quiet.

I huffed out a breath. "Okay, just say it. The silence is killing me. How bad am I?" I groaned, pinching my eyes shut and bracing down like I was expecting a punch.

Carlisle sighed, sounding deeply relieved. "Surprizingly, barely any injuries. You have a cut on the top of your head from where the windshield glass got you, you have four cracked ribs, lost quite an amount of blood, and you broke your wrist."

I finally glanced down, and sure enough, my wrist was wrapped up in plaster. Ironically, it was the wrist that I landed on when I fell in the book store.

"But besides that, you only have minor cuts and bruises. The severe bleeding was from the gouge in your head, and we gave you a transfusion. You recooperated quickly after that," he smiled, and his joy was contagious. I found my face stretching up into a smirk, but the next question had me frowning.

"But wait. If I was fine, why have I been in a coma for two days?"

"It was a drug-induced sleep. It was so you could heal and somewhat skip over the pain that comes with it."

I guessed I could live with that. But there were other questions burning on my tongue. They had to escape.

"But Carlisle, what _happened_?" I demanded, still very confused.

Carlisle looked like he felt the same way. He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation, and the wires attached to me didn't agree with the movement. I winced when the needles pulled at my skin.

"I did everything right! I checked for traffic, I didn't run the red light, I was going the speed limit! How did _I_ get hit? Was the driver drunk?"

"Oh." Carlisle shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "No, the driver wasn't drunk. He was questioned after the crash by the police, and he said he saw you and tried to stop, but couldn't. His brakes didn't work."

I stared at him in disbelief. "His _brakes_ didn't _work_?"

"No."

I exploded.

"Was he _stupid_?" I shrieked. Carlisle opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, still ranting. "How could anyone leave their home _knowing_ their car didn't work correctly, and still take it out on the road? Was he _trying_ to kill someone?"

Carlisle threw me a withering look, his eyebrow sitting high on his forehead. "Isabella, you know that's not the case."

"Do I? Because it sure seems like he nearly succeeded with me," I sneered.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. "Bella, he _tried_ to stop. He said his car was working perfectly fine when he was driving eariler in the morning. It was only at the stoplight when he couldn't brake, or even decelerate."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'm sure my eyes were bugging out of my head at that point.

"What do you mean, 'he couldn't decelerate'?" I said slowly, my voice sounding off, even to me.

Carlisle breathed out harshly, his actions getting agitated. "Exactly what I said. His car simply _stopped working_." He leaned over the bed's railing and grasped my gauzed hand in his warm one. His voice was gentler when he spoke again.

"Bells, you have to rest. You know as much as I do now. No more questions until you get some sleep, all right?"

I nodded, not wanting to drop the subject, but needing Carlisle to relax.

It seemed to work. Carlisle smiled in what looked like relief and I couldn't help but smile back, even though it tasted like battery acid. Luckily, Carlisle didn't see my grimace.

He rose out of the metal chair and stretched. "The nurse will be in here in a couple of minutes to give you more medicine."

I started to protest, but he silenced me with a stern look, his golden eyebrows threading together.

"You need to rest. Don't worry, Bella, I _promise_ everything will be okay."

I swallowed back the sudden uncomfortable lump in my throat, and I nodded in acceptance, holding back tears.

He patted me hand tenderly before walking out the door, leaving me with countless questions. Who was the man that crashed into me? I tried to think back, but all I could remember were the blinding headlights. I shuddered.

Why did he hit me? Was he intoxicated and only said that his car broke down to save himself time in jail? Or did his car really _not_ work properly?

How could a car's brakes just stop _working_?

I spun these questions around and around in my mind, the answers as elusive and confusing as the questions themselves.

The ticking of the clock on the wall only clicked for a few minutes, but it felt like hours as I grew more and more frustrated.

The sound of the door opening startled me and I jumped, then grimaced at the slight pain it caused. The nurse who had entered smiled apologetically at me before gliding over to the bed, checking all the wires and monitors hooked up to me.

"Well, hun," she began, thumping her pen against the chart board she held. I twitched in annoyence with every irritating strike.

"You look good, all things considered. All your internals are intact, and you sustained little damage for what happened. Only a broken wrist and some cracked ribs. I'm sure doctor Cullen already told you."

I nodded again and she smiled, her hazel eyes crinkling around the edges.

"You should be checked out of here in a couple of days if you continue recovering at the rate you are now," she stated.

I glanced back towards the ceiling. "Sounds good."

"Mmmhmm," she hummed, and I was instantly suspicious. I was still looking at the ceiling, but I could see her shuffling around in my periphery vision.

She moved around for another minute before stopping. "That means for you to rest properly, we need you to be sedated.."

My head snapped over to look at her, and she was brandishing a rather terrifyingly large syringe.

I blanched. "Oh no, that's not really necessary, I'm fine -"

"Doctor Cullen informed me that you would be difficult with this. I'm beginning to think he was right," she chuckled.

I glared at her, but she paid me no more attention than she would a petulant child.

"Really, I'm okay," I tried to convince her, but she continued on her path to my I.V bag.

"It _is_ necessary, dear."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"_No_, it's _not_." I insisted.

"_Yes_, it _is_. Now, it's going to happen regardless of what you say, so are we going to this the easy way, or the hard way?" She asked, her usually soft face taking on a hard look.

I sighed, already knowing I'd lost that battle. The nurse saw the defeat in my face and smirked before injecting the syringe's contents into the I.V bag. I felt the drowsiness seep through me almost immediately.

"That'll do it, hun," the woman said, but her voice was weak by the time it got through the heavy mud that seemed to be in my ears. Everything was slowing down for me, my breathing, my heart-rate, even my thinking.

"You'll be all right now, dear," she said motherly, almost lovingly.

She rubbed my forehead gently. "You don't need to worry. Someone is watching out for you up there," and she gestured towards the ceiling.

If I had had the energy, I would have scoffed at her and rolled my eyes. As it was, I only made a little sound of distaste.

The nurse smiled knowingly, and she checked the I.V one more time before strolling out the door.

I looked back over to the window where the sunlight poured in as I drifted off to sleep. My eyes closed without my permission.

As my head lolled over on my pillow, I thought about what the nurse said.

'_Someone was watching over me_'?

With my last shred of consciousness, I gave a little derisive laugh.

~)o(~

"Oh. My. God!" A high voice squealed, painfully close to my ear.

I cracked open one eye, and a head of springy blonde curls flooded my mind.

"Sara?" I mumbled, my voice raw and my lips chapped. It felt like I had gotten into _another_ car accident. Wasn't sleep supposed to make you feel _better_?

Sara's hands fluttered over me as she let out a long, high wail of distress.

I covered my ears with my palms. "Ugh, stop that. And what are you doing, trying to take flight?"

"Are you okay?" She demanded, completely ignoring my question. At least she stopped flapping her hands.

I sighed. "I'm fine-"

"I'm so sorry!" She cut in, her crystal blue eyes shining with unshed tears. She slumped down in the chair Carlisle previously inhabited.

"I never should have told you to go home," she said, and she looked so miserable.

I was puzzled. "Why?"

"Because this wouldn't have happened!" She exploded, the tears falling down her freckled cheeks, and she bit her lip.

I smiled at her in disbelief and raised my still-bandaged hand and placed it on her trembling knee.

"Sara," I began softly. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but you have to know that _none_ of this is your fault, nor do I blame you in any way."

She was shaking her head before I even finished speaking. "No. If I hadn't told you to leave, you wouldn't be here, looking like this," she waved her hand over me disgustedly.

I saw my chance and took it. "Did you just call me ugly?" I asked in mock-horror, placing my hand over my heart dramtically.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Don't be idiotic, Bella."

"Oh, so now you telling me I'm stupid, too? What's your problem?"

"Quit it," she barked, but I could see the beginnings of a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

I bit back my own amusement and continued with my distraction. "Quit what? You're the one that keeps insulting me."

There was a beat of silence as our eyes met, mine teasing and her's incredulous before we bursted into a fit of laughter, something we both desperately needed.

We didn't speak as we laughed. I don't think we could have even if we tried. The tears rolling down our faces felt glorious after all the pain and worry of the past few days, almost as if they were washing away.

Eventually our laughter died down, disolving into soft giggles.

Sara scrubbed the under her eyes with the backs of her hands, chuckles still escaping every few seconds. "Oh, I needed that," she sighed, and I could see only a small trace of sadness in her face now.

"Me too," I agreed, and we sank into silence, me staring at the window, her at the ground.

After a few minutes of peaceful quietness, Sara raised her eyes to mine, fear dancing in their depths.

"What happened?" She whispered.

I sobered from my happiness immediately. "I don't know. One minute I'm just driving home form work, and the next thing I know I'm laying in a hospital bed."

"Anything else?" She pressed.

I shook my head, the frown deep on my face. "No. You had to pass the wreak to get to the hospital, right? What did it look like?"

Sara's face clouded over, and she shuddered. "It looked like . . . an explosion had happened. I always thought that nothing could even _dent_ your behemoth of a car, but now it's nothing more than a twisted piece of metal."

"My car is totalled?" That could possibly be the most upsetting thing about this whole ordeal.

Sara nodded, her face glum. "It's completely trashed. I'm sorry, Bella. I know you loved that car," she shot me an apologetic look and took a deep, steadyig breath before continuing, "But Bella, I can't actually believe you're alive. When I saw the destruction that was your car, I thought fo sure that you were dead."

I winced and turned my head away from her to stare at the ceiling again, my mind numb.

Things went quiet between us again after that. I listened to the sounds of around us. The beeping sound of my heart-rate monitor. The high-pitched chirping of the birds outside the window. Footsteps falling down the hallway. A dog barking down the street outside.

That last sound caught my attention and made me think of someone _very_ important.

I looked over at Sara, who was staring at me curiously. "Where's Emmett? Who's been taking care of him while I've been here?"

She opened her mouth to answer, buit an alarming thought had me interrupting her. "Who long have I been asleep this time?" I asked urgently. I felt as though I had been sleeping for weeks. I think I began to hyperventilate.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Sara tried to soothe me, placing her hands on either side of my face and making my gaze meet her clear eyes.

"_Relax_. You've only been asleep for one day, it's fine. And Emmett's been staying at my place. Once I got to the hospital, they told me you were still recovering from surgery, and that I couldn't come in to see you yet. So I went to your appartment and used the spare key you gave me to get in. I swear Emmett knew what had happened to you. He was pacing and looked like he had seen a ghost."

_Poor Emmett_, I thought. He was always so skittish. He was probably nervous because I was late getting home. He knew what time I should have been there, the smart dog.

Sara continued. "I'll send him back home with you as soon as you can get out of here," she said with a slight air of relief.

I smirked. "What, don't you want to keep Em for a couple of weeks?" I teased.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "No, thank you. He is the biggest bed hog I've ever seen. I didn't even invite him into my room, and yet I wake up, and he's there! Sheesh!"

I couldn't help but give an affectionate laugh. "Yup, that's Emmett."

Sara leaned back into her chair, stretching her sure-to-be stiff arms out. I felt bad that she had been here all this time, just sitting there.

"Is Carlisle here?" I wondered.

"Yes. He said he's not leaving until you do."

I was shocked. "What? He can't do that! His job is in Forks. Why is he staying here?"

"Because you're here." Sara made a _duh_ face at me, and I smacked at her arm, and she grinned. "The doctors here don't seem to mind him at all, though," she mused.

I scoffed. "Of course they don't mind him. They practically been begging him to work here for years."

Sara's eyes hiked up high on her forehead. "Really? Then why doesn't he work here? I'm sure his paycheck would be a much more substantial amount than what he gets at Forks."

I shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. He loves that little town, and always says that's where his heart lays, and has actually asked for _me_ to move _there_." _Much to my horror._

"And are you going to go?" Sara asked, trying to look innocent, but I could see the burning curiousity hiding under her face.

I gave her a mocking look. "I'm not even going to justify that with an answer."

"Okay, dumb question," she held up her hands in surrender, but I knew she was relieved. She hated that town almost as much as I did, and I knew she was glad I had _no_ intention of ever moving back there.

Our conversation after that turned into simple chit-chat. Celebrity gossip. Local gossip. Simple dramas. Even the weather.

We stopped short when the nurse who had given me the medicine earlier knocked on the door and popped her head in. "Sorry deary, but your visiting time is up," she said softly as she looked at Sara.

"She doesn't have to go, I'm fine," I protested, wanting Sara to stay, but really just not wanting to be alone.

Sara got up out of the seat and started picking up her belongings that she had taken with her here. "No really, it's fine, I've got to go home anyway. We wouldn't want Emmett to starve," she laughed, and I chuckled with her.

Sara leaned down to give me a hug, and I embraced her back as strongly as I could manage without pain. She pulled back and walked towards the door, waving once before disappearing out of sight.

The nurse walked to the edge of my bed, and I tried to inspect her hands for a syringe discreetly, but she saw what I was doing and laughed.

"I don't have anything with me," she giggled as she held her palms out to me. Yup, no syringe. I relaxed.

She put her hands on her hips. "All right hun, how are you feeling? Any pain? We lowered your medication, so you might be feeling more than you did when you first woke up."

She was right about that. If I moved too much to one side or the other, it felt like my ribs would snap. My head and my wrist didn't feel so hot, either. So what did I say?

"I'm fine."

She strolled over to the window and pulled the vertical blinds over it, darkening the room significantly. "Well, you need to get some sleep if you want to get better faster."

I hunched in on myself, thinking she was going to give me more medicine. She laughed again. "I meant you should try falling asleep on your own."

"Oh." Well, didn't I feel stupid? I blushed.

The nurse looked over the wires and monitors around me like she did last time, occasionally nodding to herself. She seemed satisfied with everything.

"Okay, looks good. You try to rest now, and just press that button if you need anything," she gestured towards the button on the bedside table that alerted the nurses. I nodded at her and she smiled. She walked back over to the door and opened it.

"Goodnight, dear," she murmured and shut the door softly behind her.

I glared back up at the ceiling, feeling like it was an old past-time now with how frequently I was doing it. What did people say to do when you couldn't sleep? Oh, right, count sheep. I closed my eyes and pictured a little white picket fence, and fluffy little sheep started hopping over it.

_One_ . . .

_Two _. . .

_Three_ . . .

I could feel myself slipping into sleep, and I almost woke myself back up by my amazement. This crap was actually working.

_Nine_ . . .

_Sixteen _. . .

_Fourty-two_ . . .

I wasn't sure at what point the fluffy sheep turned into dozens of little Emmett's, but sure enough, Emmett started hopping over that little white fence repeatedly.

_Fifty-four_ . . .

_Seventy-six_ . . .

_Ninety-nine_ . . .

I had almost made it to a hundred before the sound of ear-splitting screams started.

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><p><strong>*Waves frantically as you all start un-alerting my story* Wait, wait! I know it's strange that I'm using sweet, loving Esme in such a horrible way, but I <em>swear<em>** it will make sense if you just keep reading. There's a _reason_ I'm using Esme, just wait and give me a chance. ****

****And last thing. I have eleven reviews for this story so far. If you guys can review _nine_ times, you'll give me a solid twenty, which will make me very, _very_ happy, which will mean you'll get the next chapter a lot sooner. ****

****So c'mon guys. Reviews are like Christmas mornings to authors.****


	4. The Girl

**Author's Note: Here we are again! New chapter, woo! It was a little late, but hopefully the length will make up for it. **

**And we're at 25 reviews now! Aww, thank you guys! Can we at least hit thirty this time, then? Because you all must know, reviews are _exactly_ my brand of heroin. :) **

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor do I own any of her creations. I merely play with them.**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"The Path" - Zoe Keating.  
>"They Move On Tracks Of Never-Ending Light" - This Will Destroy You.<p>

* * *

><p>I bolted upright, all thoughts of sleeping disappearing as the screams echoed down the hall.<p>

An unknown shriek pierced through my hospital room, making me jump. It almost frightened me more when I realized _I_ was the reason for the noise.

The screaming down the hallway continued and goose-flesh broke out on my skin as my palms started to sweat, though I felt ice cold.

What's _happening_? I thought. I looked over to the window and it was pitch-black outside. Night-time. It was too dark in the room for me to read the clock hanging on the wall.

My heart-rate monitor was going hay-wire in my panic. The regular beeping was beginning to sound like one long, continuous hum.

The beeping escalated when I heard footsteps walking towards my door. The thump of the shoes against the tiles sounded like gunshots as they approached closer still, the screams bouncing in my ears.

I was breathing so hard and fast I was getting light-headed.

The footsteps suddenly stopped outside the door, and my blood was hammering in my ears. The click from the latch as the doorknob slowly turned reverberated through the room.

I huddled down further in the crisp bed sheets as the door opened, much like a child would when scared.

As the door opened painfully slow, - the person still unknown to me - I was suddenly thinking of those stupid slasher films my friends used to make me watch, and the irony of how similar this moment was to those in the movies wasn't lost on me. I almost would have found it comical if I wasn't so terrified.

The light from the hallway spilled in, the cries outside intensifying.

A head of long, ironed-straight red hair poked into the room, and the wave of relief that flowed through me was dizzying. It was the kind nurse from before. No Michael Meyers or boogey-man. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

She entered fully now that she knew I was awake, shutting the door behind her and effectively blackening the room again for a moment before she flipped the lights on.

The woman strolled over to my side of the bed, placing her hand on my wrist delicately.

"Hello, honey. Are you okay? Your heart was going crazy there for a minute," she glanced over to the monitors and my heart-beat _was_ thankfully beginning to calm down.

The screaming outside, however, wasn't lessening at all.

I wondered how long the nurse would play dumb and act like it wasn't happening.

I shifted into a sitting position on the bed, being careful of my ribs as I moved, and cleared my throat. "I'm fine, just startled. Who is screaming?"

The nurse sighed, and I could see the weariness in her eyes. "That's Mary Alice. It's her yearly visit."

The screams cut through the air, hurting my ears.

I winced as the wailing got - impossibly - louder. "What's wrong with her?"

"We don't know," the woman shrugged, checking the wires attached to me. "Everytime she's here, we can never find anything wrong with her."

There must be _something_ not right with her if she was protesting that hard. I was confused as I thought of something else.

"What did you mean, 'her yearly visit'?"

"Well, it's not exactly _yearly_. Sometimes it's once or twice a year, sometimes it's none at all."

My brow furrowed as I frowned. "It doesn't sound like she enjoys being here," I mused.

The nurse chuckled without humor. "Oh, she doesn't. Some elderly woman brought her here this time."

"This time?" I asked, getting more and more confused. Nothing made sense.

She sighed again, albeit roughly and a little frustrated. "It changes. Different people. This time it was an old woman. Last time it was a young boy, the time before that it was a middle-aged lady with her children, and so on. It always different people, but the story never changes. They always find her unconscious."

"Really?" I was incredulous. I think my brain stopped working from the sheer surprise.

She nodded sadly. "They say she's . . . in a different world when they find her, like she's transfixed or something. She's never cumbersome when she's being moved, but when she gets to the hospital and wakes up, all hell is raised."

I could believe that. It sounded like they were killing her. I had never heard of anyone screaming like that before, short of dying, that is.

"Can you guys hold her here like this?" I inquired nervously. Surely they had to let her go if she didn't want to be here, right?

"She's free to leave if she wants, but we usually keep her here for a day or two, just to make sure she's all right."

"And what's wrong with her, truly?"

The woman shook her head, looking amazed. "Nothing at all. Or, at least, none that we can find. We've run full-body tests, brain checks, everything. And there's absolutely nothing the matter there. And she's a very pleasant girl," she defended, and I could see a fondness in her eyes for the mysterious girl.

"But there's times - like now - when she's just . . . possessed." She shuddered.

I leaned back against the pillows, absorbing what she said. The wailing began to take on a sobbing tone, and it twisted my heart, even though I didn't even know this girl. I looked over at the nurse, and she seemed to be sharing in my sadness.

"Is she going to be all right?" I murmured, and the lady nodded, seemingly relieved.

She swept her carrot-colored hair behind her ears. "Yes. In a couple of hours or so she'll calm down."

A couple of _hours_? How long could she be in this "trance"?

The nurse sighed again before putting on a bright, false smile. It was almost painful watching her try to brush this off as if it weren't happening. It was especially strange that she was ignoring it when the girl was crying right down the hall.

"So do you need anything, dear? Would you like some more medicine to get back to sleep?"

I shook my head vigorously, but having to stop when the room began to spin. Ow.

The woman sank down into the chair that had seated my friends before her. "The poor girl has woken up damn-near everyone in the hospital with her screeching."

"I'm sure," I mumbled in agreement. I wouldn't be surprised if she had woken up everyone in Seattle, period.

I glanced at the clock now that there was light in the room, and I noted with great annoyence that the clock wasn't working.

"What time is it?"

"A little after three in the morning, dear."

I almost didn't want to ask my next question.

"Is Doctor Cullen still here?" I already knew the answer, but I still cringed when I heard it.

"Of course." She seemed puzzled at my discomfort. "Do you want me to go get him?"

I shook my head. "No. But could you tell him to go home, please?"

That confused her even more. She looked at me like I was growing a horn out of my forehead. "Why?"

"Because he shouldn't be here! He should be in Forks, where his _real_ job is." It pained me to say those words. His real home in Forks? It burned like acid.

_But do I really want him to leave?_ My mind questioned. No, of course not, my less noble side stated, as if it should be obvious to myself.

No, Carlisle loves his job in Forks, and I want him to be happy. He needs to go home, and stop worrying about me.

The lady sat quietly in the chair, watching me curiously as I argued with myself internally. I met her slightly embarrassed gaze, and she smiled. "All right, I'll pass along the message for you dear."

I smiled back at her. "Thank you."

She held up her hand in a warning gesture, her eyes glinting with something wicked. "But I do have _one_ condition for helping you."

I couldn't fathom what she would possibly want from _me_, a bed-ridden girl. What, did she want me to pay her for sending Carlisle my request? What were we in, the second grade?

"What do you want?" I asked her warily.

"I want to know something, something important," she said before pausing.

The silence was going to kill me. "Well?" I prodded.

She grinned suddenly. "Is Doctor Cullen single?" Her voice sounded like a love-sick school girl.

The breath I didn't realize I had been holding rushed out of my lungs. I looked at her with disbelief as she giggled. "Are you serious?" I choked.

"Like a heart attack," she laughed as she winked at me.

"Um, yeah, he's single." Maybe he didn't want her to know that. Maybe I should have lied for him.

The lady's face lit up as if I had given her the best present of her life. "Really?" She crowed. I back-tpeddled quickly.

"But, um, he doesn't really date. I haven't ever seen Carlisle go on a date, actually." And I really hadn't. He was just always . . . alone. I got a twinge of pain in my chest for him.

That wiped the happy look off her face. "Well, is he gay?"

I almost choked on my own saliva as I gasped. "No, of course not!" I spluttered around my coughing. Carlisle? _Gay_? Never. There was nothing wrong with being gay, but Carlisle? Just . . . no.

"Oh, thank goodness! I was worried for a minute there. He _is_ shockingly attractive, and it just makes you wonder," she said and beamed again. "Then I see no problem for me asking him out!" She declared cheerfully.

I couldn't help but chuckle in amazment at her persistence. _Poor Carlisle_, I thought devilishly. _Maybe she would send him running back home with her constant seduction of him._ I laughed again.

The nurse pulled herself from her thoughts - about Carlisle in various states of undress, probably - and focused on me. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get you, hun?" This lady really knew how to make a person comfy here.

I didn't really want to ask her for anything, but this one thing was truly annoying me. "Um, ma'am?" I asked hesitantly. Why was I hesitant? I _was_ the patient after all. _Pull it together, Swan_, I berated myself.

The nurse looked at me questioningly. "Yes, dear?"

I blushed under her gaze. "I, uh, - will you take out all the wires, please?" I held up my arms, all punctured with needles.

She frowned, a little line forming between her brows. I could tell she was debating what to do. I decided to push her, just a little.

"Please?"

She stared at me for another long moment before sighing. I saw the resignation in her eyes and I tried not to smile. I had won.

The lady stood up and grasped my left arm. "You might want to turn your head," she warned.

"I'm not that squimish," I muttered, though I turned my face away regardless. I felt the pinching sting of the needles being removed before I heard the monitor flat-line. The nurse leaned over and turned it off. "We wouldn't want the other doctors to think you had died, would we?" She laughed. I rolled my eyes, but nodded.

She quickly removed the rest of the wires until my body was blissfully equipment-free. I ran my hands over my forearms. "Thank you so much," I sighed happily.

"No problem," she grinned, but her face grew serious. "Though if you start to feel the slightest bit strange, the IV is coming back." She eyed me sternly. This was not a request.

I nodded and tried to smother my grimace. I knew they were only going through the motions and _not_ trying to torture me.

"Thank you again, ma'am." I said politely. She had been a big help to me.

Her expression was a mix between outraged and horrifed. "Hey, hey, none of that _ma'am_ business. I'm not my mother. You can call me Victoria. Or Vicki if I really like you," she winked.

I giggled. "Thank you, Vicki."

The endless sound of wailing brought me back to more dire things.

"Maybe you could help her now . . .?" I trailed off, wanting her to help the poor girl, but not wanting to upset Victoria by telling her how to do her job. I worried for a moment that she'd take my words the wrong way.

She didn't seem to find my question offensive. "Yes, I was on my way there, but I had to stop in here to see if she had unintentionally woken you up. Many other patients are complaining about not getting any sleep because of her."

I frowned at that. "It's not like it's her fault." I felt surprised that I would defend this girl when I didn't even know her. I brushed it off as someone innocent needing help.

"We know, deary. We're trying to help her, even though she doesn't want it."

"But she'll be okay, right?" I asked nervously. She truly sounded like she was on the verge of death.

She smiled. "Of course. We've been through this song and dance with her a million times, it feels like," she murmured, her voice taking on an even softer tone.

She stood up from the chair again, placing her hands on her lower back and groaned as she stretched. "Ugh, those chairs are a pain in the ass," she grumbled, rubbing her backside.

I couldn't resist laughing. "Literally!"

She grinned back at me before the cries outside intensified again, the mirth melting from her face. She glanced back towards the door and started inching over to it.

"If there's anything you need, you just-"

"Push the button on the table, yes I know." I finished for her. I smiled sheepishly when she raised her eyebrow at me. She waved as she opened the door, and before she closed it, I could have sworn I heard her say, "Cheeky little thing." I chuckled.

I reclined back into a sleeping postion, hoping to rest a little more, but my back was getting antsy at lying down so much. I tried rolling over on my side, but soon the protesting of my ribs against the matress was more painful than the aching in my back. I sighed heavily before rolling back over.

I looked back over towards the clock and groaned. I meant to ask the nurse if she could fix that. I contemplated calling the lady back, but quickly putting the kibosh on the idea. It seemed silly to call her back for something so trivial.

Glaring up at the ceiling, the restless feeling coursing though me driving me mad. I tried to calm my breathing and started to think of counting sheep. Hey, it worked last time.

I soon started counting little Emmetts again, my giggles filling the room. But even with the amusing mental picture of a frolicking Emmetts, the buring curiousity about the screaming girl assaulted my mind.

What was she thinking?

What happened to her?

Did she even know where she was?

Why is she acting this way?

Was she a drunk, an addict?

Around and around I chased these thoughts in my head, each one spurring off ten more answerless questions.

I began to hear voices speaking softly outside my door. It was too muffled to hear individual words, more like a quiet hum in my ears. I should have tried to be polite and ignored their private conversation, to put my fingers in my ears and go, "La, la, la, la, la, la!"

I should have.

But I didn't.

Because one of the voices was Carlisle's.

With curiousity - and a hint of shame - burning through me, I slinked out of the hospital bed and tip-toed over to the door. As I approached, the voices' volume increased and one of them was, indeed, Carlisle's.

My hand closed around the chilly metal doorknob and tried to open the door stealthily. I was grateful that the heavy door didn't creak and give away my pathetic sneaking.

I opened the door only a crack and gazed out of the miniscule sliver to see Carlisle standing in the otherwise empty hallway, talking heatedly with another doctor.

I did not recognize this other man. He had a short and squat build to him, with mousy brown curls and bottle-cap glasses sliding down his nose.

I had to focus on what they were saying, almost having to read their lips to understand as they spoke so quietly.

". . . But there must be _something_!" Carlisle pleaded with the other man. I had never heard him sound that way before.

The man snorted. "Really? What would you suppose we do, then?" His voice was nasily and unpleasant.

"Anything but this!" Carlisle exclaimed, throwing his arms out for emphasis to his words. "She's a human being for God's sake! Something _you_ seem to have forgotten."

The man gasped at Carlisle's cold accusation before his own tone hardened. "I have not forgotten anything, Cullen, especially the fact that this is not your working place. You would do best to remember that."

I had to place my hand over my mouth, smothering my curses.

How dare that man?

Carlisle spoke slowly, his teeth clenched together. "I remember. But you know why I'm still here."

"Yes, to watch over your little charity-case. How could I ever forget?" The man mocked, rolling his eyes dramatically.

I felt furious tears spring to my eyes and my grasp tightened on the door to keep me from literally launching myself at that pathetic bag of wasted testosterone.

How could that mean refer to me like that? Is that honestly what people thought when they saw Carlisle and I? That he only watched out for me because he feels _sorry_?

And most importantly, is that what _Carlisle_ thought of me? Tears of different kind than anger smarted my eyes.

I saw Carlisle step closer to the obnoxious man and had a heart-stopping expression on his face. He spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "Don't ever think for one moment that that girl in that room is my 'charity case'. I love that girl as if she were my own daughter, my own blood." He stared down the bastardly man, his voice righteous.

My ridiculous fears retreated as fast as they had come on. Why didn't I trust in him? Of course Carlisle thought of me as family. And I returned those feelings ten-fold. Carlisle is my father in every sense of the word.

The man seemed to be at a loss for words.

Carlisle continued, "But we're not discussing Bella, we were talking about Mary Alice. Now, are we going to be professional, or are you going to let your pettiness get in the way of your job?"

The doctor spluttered, everything coming out as nonsense, his face tomato red. He tried to regain his composure when a nurse went bustling by them. He glared at Carlisle with barely-concealed hatred, but nodded his head.

Carlisle nodded in return, his face all business. "How many times has Mary Alice been in this hospital in the recent years?"

"Six times in the last three years."

"And the same thing every time? No injuries?"

The doctor shook his head. "None."

"No external damage? Lacerations? Bruises? Anything?"

"Do you know what the meaning of 'none' is?" The man replied snarkily.

Carlisle ignored his petulant quip and continued in stride. "What about brain damage? Internal?"

"No, and no," the doctor said, anger laced through his voice. "Listen, we should just go with my idea and quit dicking around and put that psycho in a mental institute."

"Mark!" Carlisle all but snarled. Had it not been late at night and patients were sleeping, I'm positive he would have been screaming. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Carlisle, _come on_. That girl is crazy! It's our job to protect others, and that means getting unstable people of the streets. And Mary Alice is _not mentally stable_."

"She's fine!" Carlisle exploded, making me flinch. Silence be damned, I suppose. "She's not dangerous at all, she's never harmed anyone!"

"Can you prove that?"

"Can you prove _otherwise_?" Carlisle countered, his voice scathing. I had never heard him speak so angrily before. Chills slithered down my spine. I couldn't imagine what I would do if he ever used that tone with me. I shivered again.

Mark simply glared harder at Carlisle, his lip pulled up slightly over his teeth in disgust. Good thing looks couldn't kill.

But he conceded. "No. I can't prove that."

"Then you know how the saying goes. 'Innocent until proven guilty', and Mary Alice _is_ innocent." The man laughed haughtily, but Carlisle merely silenced him with a look.

Carlisle started pacing back and forth, his arms clasped over his chest and a look of frustration on his face.

"We can't hold her here for a lengthy amount of time if there's nothing wrong with her - and we _won't_ be sending her to a mental ward," Carlisle snapped as Mark opened his mouth, undoubtably to say exactly that. It only strengthened my guess when he closed his mouth without answering.

"But it seems foolish to simply unleash her back onto the streets again! She'll surely be back here again soon." Carlisle shook his head angrily, and my heart ached for him.

Mark stepped in front of Carlisle's pacing path when he turned back towards him. "Cullen, why does it matter to you? If it weren't for Bella being here, you wouldn't even know about Mary Alice. What concern is she to you? She's just one crazy loon."

Carlisle stormed up into Mark's face and he took an automatic step back form the look on Carlisle's face.

"_A crazy loon_?" Carlisle repeated disbelievingly. "She's a person for God's sake! Have you no heart?"

I agreed completely with that statement.

"Sometimes I cannot even understand why you choose a profession where you're supposed to help others. You have not changed at all, Mark."

With that, Carlisle turned an about-face and strode by the despicable man, heading straight towards my door.

My chest constricted in fear. I didn't have a clue as to how he would respond if he saw I was eaves-dropping on his conversation while he was in this mood.

I tried shutting the door as quietly as humanly possible. _Maybe he didn't see me_, I whimpered to myself. Yeah, _right_.

After closing the door with incredible softness, I sprinted to the bed on tip-toes and ripped the covers back before diving in. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and tried to slow my breathing. Carlisle's footsteps got louder, which really didn't help my oxygen intake situation.

I had just closed my eyes when Carlisle opened the door. I couldn't see him, but I figured he was just going to check on me quickly and then leave. So I was throughly surprised, - and more than a little panicked - when I heard his shoes glide against the tile floor.

I was suddenly greatful that the kind nurse had taken all the wires out of me earlier, otherwise my heart on the monitor would have given me away hours ago.

The bed shifted, alerting me that Carlisle had sat down on the edge of it. I tried not to hyperventilate.

I felt Carlisle's warm fingers smooth over my cheek, brushing away a few way-ward strands of hair. Little did he know that the disarray was due to my mad dash. Thankfully.

The bed shifted further as he leaned over me, and I smelled the scent of Carlisle's mint-laced breath before I felt the light pressure of his lips against my forehead.

He sighed heavily. "Please, watch over her," he whispered almost silently. The pain in his voice hurt me more than my bruised body ever would. I choked back my impending sob, trying to remain silent.

He sat there for a few more minutes, not moving, not talking, barely even breathing. I wanted _so_ badly to ask the questions that were eating at me, that I knew only _he_ could answer.

Who was Mary Alice?

Who was that other man?

Why did he seem to hate her?

Why _did_ Carlisle care?

Of course, I couldn't ask any of those, since I was "sleeping".

When the stress of trying to appear unconscious was about to send me up the wall, Carlisle stood up and I heard his light, graceful steps carry him to the door. When he shut the door quietly after him, I waited another moment to make sure he was truly gone and not trying to test me. I counted two minutes off in my head before opening my eyes and rolling over to the door. Nope, he was really gone.

My heart felt like a leaded-weight in my chest. Poor Carlisle. I wracked my brain for ways to help him, all coming up blank.

Mary Alice's screams followed me into my dreams.

~)o(~

A warm tongue licked me from my chin to my forehead.

I cracked my eyelids open, startled awake, but all I could see was golden hair. A cold, wet nose poked me in the cheek accompanied by the sound of a heavy thumping. I finally shook off the delirium and I knew _exactly_ who this was.

"Emmett!" I cried, throwing my arms around his thick neck, a huge smile blossoming across my face for the first time in days. The thumping sound increased and I looked over Emmett's back to see his tail thunking against the matress in his joy.

I laughed as he squirmed against me, his excitedness making his whole body practically vibrate.

I heard a soft giggle from the door. "Okay Em, you need to get off, you'll break another one of her bird-like bones."

Sara was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face.

"Hey Sara, how you been?" I asked as I waved her in. She danced over to the ever-popular chair before plopping down. She shrugged out of her jacket and drapped it over the back of the seat. "Oh, you know, same ol' same ol'," she smiled at me and patted Emmett on the side. "But how are _you_? How are you feeling?"

I sat up - with Em still on my lap - and raised my arms over my head and stretched from side to side. I _was_ a little stiff, but certainly nothing unbearable.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better - but I don't want to talk about me, tell me how you got Emmett in here!" I demanded excitedly. I still couldn't believe he was here.

Sara laughed. "I smuggled him in under my shirt, of course."

I didn't even feel like dignifying that with a response.

She giggled at my expression. "Naw, I'm just kidding. Carlisle said I could bring him in as long as he didn't bark and disturb the other patients. Told me it would be good for you."

"I'd say I agree with that statement," I murmured as Emmett nuzzled against my hand. I felt better than I had in days just after seeing him.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, her words reminding me of a question I'd wanted to ask. "Is Carlisle _still_ here?"

Sara nodded her head, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, he's still here. Said he wouldn't leave if -"

" 'If I couldn't leave', yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," I cut her off, not wanting to listen to it again.

Sara huffed. "Well, Miss Smart-Ass, he actually _is_ leaving soon."

I narrowed my eyes, looking her up and down in suspision. "Why? What do you mean?"

She grinned deviously. "Oh, so you _don't_ know everything."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Don't be an ass. What do you mean?" I repeated, all serious.

Sara waggled her eyebrows at me. "You get to go home today."

"No way!" I yelled, scaring Emmett and making him jump. I scratched his head while I smiled.

"Are you serious? I'm free? Really?" I was too ecstatic to think of anything else to say.

Sara's giggles grew. "Really. Dr Cullen said as long as you take your meds and get lots of rest, you can go home."

I couldn't believe it. I was only moments away from leaping into the air and start dancing, my damaged body the only thing stopping me. Though with my joy came my guilt, quickly sobering my mood. For even though _I_ could leave, there was one specific person who could not.

Sara saw my face drop and she tried to catch my gaze. I looked at her and concern shone out of her eyes. "Bella? You okay? You got a little distant there," she said nervously. Than her expression turned surprised. "You don't actually want to _stay_ do you?"

I blanched. "No, no! Of course not." There was nothing I would hate more.

"Then what is it?" She spoke softly, as if not to scare me.

I couldn't help but as my next question. "Sara? I know this is pretty out-of-the-blue, but . . . you wouldn't happen to know a Mary Alice, would you?"

Sara's face scrunched up in concentration. I could almost hear the wheels spinning rapidly in her head. "No, don't think so. But maybe I'd know who she was if you'd give me her last name."

"I would if I knew it. The nurses say _they_ don't even know."

"That's insane!" Sara spluttered. "She has absolutely no identification at all? Driver's license, anything?"

I shrugged. "They said no."

Sara bit her lip, her little white teeth worrying it to the point I was sure she was going to cut it. "I'm guessing she's here at the hospital, then?"

"You would guess correctly. She came into the hospital last night, and Sara . . . the screams that were coming out of her, you would have thought she was being murdered." I shuddered. Those sounds were going to haunt me for months to come.

Sara's eyes widened. "Good grief! What did they say was wrong with her?"

"That's just it, no one knows."

She shook like a leaf in a breeze. "Jeez, that's creepy."

"You've got that right."

It turned quiet in the room except for the sound of Emmett's tail hitting the bed and our breaths. I looked back over at Sara, and she was wearing an intense look of concentraion.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked gently, reaching out and cover her hand with mine. She seemed to snap out of it.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry Bells. I was just thinking," she murmured, her face still clouded.

"I can tell," I teased her, trying to steal a smile from her. I didn't succeed.

Sara looked up at me. "Did you see her? Do you know what she looks like?" She pressed.

I shook my head. "No. I couldn't get a glimpse of her. A nurse came in and stayed with me for a while, and by the time she left, the girl was in a room already."

Sara sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You don't think they'll let us come in and talk to her, do you?"

I laughed bleakly. "No. And besides, I don't think Mary Alice would appreciate two girls going in there and grilling her with questions."

The excitement faded from Sara's eyes. She slumped in defeat. "Yeah, you're probably right," she pouted, and I had to fight the urge to smile at her.

Sara always had a drive to get every last piece of information on anything remotely interesting to her. She always had to be in-the-know, no matter how insignificant or ridiculous. She was like a dog with a bone when she was curious. She would make a great journalist one day. Or at least an interrorgator.

I decided to distract her from the unattainable mystery. "Have you seen the nurse with the _really_ red long hair?"

Sara appeared confused at the sudden change in topic, but nodded. "Victoria? Yeah, I've met her. She gave me a cup of coffee and talked to me for a while when you were in the coma," she shivered, and her face paled a little, but she continued. "She was nice. Why do you ask?"

I tried to look as innocent as possible as I said the next words. "No reason, really. Except she bullied information about Carlisle out of me," I said nonchalantly. "Bullying" was an exaggeration, but I knew it would catch her attention. I waited for her reaction.

She didn't disappoint.

"No way!" Sara gasped, her face suddenly alight. "What did she want to know?"

I thought it was best not to point out the fact that Sara was now the one badgering me for information. "She wanted to know if he was single." I braced myself, leaning away slightly from my best friend.

"No. Way." She whispered slowly, quietly. I released the breath I was holding and relaxed a little. This was definitely not the response I had been anticipating.

Apparently, I should have waited a few seconds before relaxing.

"No. Fucking. Way!" She nearly screamed, and I clasped my hands over my ears as Emmett jumped in surprise. A low, alarmed growl coming from his chest. I nudged him to make him stop.

"Sara!" I hissed at her, hoping to snap her out of her "no way" mantra.

She ignored me. "Bella, why aren't you excited? Why aren't you _ecstatic_?"

At least she had stopped babbling.

I frowned at her. "Why should I be? Am I missing something here?" I didn't really think I was being dense.

"Obviously!" She crowed. She threw her arms out for emphasis. "This is _huge_ news! We need to set her up with Carlisle!"

I couldn't stop myself in time. I laughed in her face. She had _clearly_ lost her mind. "Carlisle? With _Victoria_? Are you kidding me?" I laughed harder.

She looked at me like I had kicked her puppy, her blue eyes pouting at me over her glasses. "Why not? Carlisle needs to date somebody. You know, clean out the cobwebs and stuff," she grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, first: ew," I glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out and giggled. "Secondly, Vicki's not exactly what I'd call 'Carlisle' material," I hedged.

Sara snorted. "Oh, really? What would you describe as 'Carlisle' material? _You_?"

I blushed furiously and shook my head. "Of course not!" That entire idea was preposterous. "Just think about it, Sara. Close your eyes and picture Victoria."

She seemed wary about my request, but complied. She closed her eyes. "All right, I see Vicki," she murmured.

"Now picture Carlisle," I instructed calmly.

I waited a moment until Sara sighed. "Okay, now what?"

"Picture Victoria jumping Carlisle's bones."

Sara's eyes snapped open, and she recoiled from me like I had struck her. "Ugh! That was _completely_ uncalled for," she groaned, glaring balefully at me.

I laughed and buried my face in Emmett's fur. "That's what you get for that whole 'cobwebs' comment."

"You're incorrigible," She muttered, but her eyes seemed to agree with me.

"I guess you're right," She conceded.

"I know I'm right."

She visably deflated. "I just thought it was a good idea, though," she saw my raised eyebrow and elaborated. "Not Victoria for Carlisle _per se_, but someone in general. I love Carlisle like a dad, and I just want him to be happy."

That stopped my giggles. I sighed. "I do, too. It just can't see Carlisle with anybody, and he can't either, apparently if he's been single for this long."

Sara nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess so. Hey, do you think Carlisle would agree to letting us sign him up for speed-dating?" She asked, her face sparkling.

I laughed, throughly grateful for Sara's lighter subject, steering us away from the uncomfortable place of Carlisle's relationships.

Or lack thereof.

"I'm going to go ahead and say that he won't." He'd have a conniption if he knew we were even thinking of it.

"I don't know," Sara said in a sing-song voice. "All we'd have to do is a 25 year old doctor. That coupled with his devilishly good looks, hell, he'd have a line of women waiting for him out the door!"

We busted into much-needed laughter at the mental image of a line of waiting ladies and a very uncomfortable Carlisle. The feeling was wonderous.

We laughed for incredibly long moments, our giggles reaching near-painful peaks before we would die back down. Then one of us would picture the senario again and the laughter would start over. Sara had tears running down her freckled cheeks, holding onto her sides as she rocked herself back and forth. I was gasping through my cackles, and was clutching Emmett to my chest, who was practically dancing in his mirth.

What felt like hours later, - though it was only minutes - our laughs had just barely stopped when the door to the room opened, revealing a curious Victoria.

Her sudden appearence brought us to near-hysterics. Vicki seemed befuddled as we gasped for air, looking down at her shirt as if she had spilled something on it. Our laughs were beginning to become painful, yet we still couldn't stop.

Victoria finally had enough and stepped in. "All right, I get it, you're having one of those 'inside joke' moments. But I do need to give you one last check up before you get the 'ok' to go." She said sternly, but I could see amusement playing around her lips in the way they twitched.

I grinned. "Yes, ma'am," I mocked, remembering her little pet-peeve.

She only hitched her eybrow higher up on her forehead. I destinctly heard her mutter "Cheeky" again under her breath.

Sara finally swallowed off the rest of her giggles and looked questioningly at Vicki. "Should I leave and give you a moment?" She asked politely, already half-way out of her chair.

The nurse waved at her to get back in the chair. "No, no, stay. I'll only be a moment, and then _you_, Miss Swan," her eyes slid to mine and she smiled, "You'll be able to leave with your friend."

Victoria walked to the end of my bed and stared at the golden mass in my lap with her hands on her hips.

"And just _who_," she began, eying Emmett with an unidentifiable expression on her face, "is _this_?"

The animal currently under scrutiny lifted his head from my leg and zeroed-in on Victoria. When he looked at her and her stern posture, a soft growl rumbled from his chest. I bit my lip, hiding a smile.

Sara didn't find it funny. She gasped. "Vicki, I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him, he's usually a really sweet dog."

Victoria ignored Sara's reassurences and leaned forward over the bed. She stared Emmett down, and ever so gently, growled right back at him.

Emmett's chocolate brown eyes widened as his ears perked up in surprise. Before Sara could make a move to grab him, he darted and lunged at Victoria.

Sara screamed in terror, but I didn't move. I knew what he was doing.

Emmett jumped on Victoria and started licking her frantically as his tail went nuts. Victoria laughed happily while Sara nearly passed out from shock.

Victoria ran her hands through Emmett's hair at his neck. "He's a good boy," she praised.

"Yes, he's a wonderful dog," I agreed whole-heartedly. Sara looked at the scene in front of her, her head whipping between me, Victoria and Emmett so quickly it was almost comical.

"But - but-" she spluttered, her confusion rendering her speechless.

Vicki glanced over at her, a playful smile on her youthful face. "Yes?"

"He - he attacked you! Why are you _playing_ with him?"

Victoria shook her head, making her red hair bounce. "No dear, he was testing me." That didn't seem to help Sara's confusion at all. I understood completely and let Victoria explain. "Carlisle told me that Emmett here was abused at one point in his life," she said delicately, and I shuddered at the memory. "And he said that he doesn't take well to new people. So, when Emmett saw me and got defensive, he was testing me."

"Remember how when I first met you, Emmett wouldn't even be in the same room with you for about a year?" I asked Sara.

She nodded. "But he didn't _attack_ me!" She protested.

I shrugged. "He responds differently with different people, I guess."

Sara seemed to accept this, but then shot out another question at Victoria. "But I don't understand one thing. Why did you growl at him?"

"Because that's what Emmett wants," I cut in. Sara threw me a withering look, and I hurried to explain. "It's true! Strange, but true. He just . . . likes it when someone else decides to be alpha, I guess. I've never understood why Emmett calms down when someone growls at him, but he does. Hell, _I've_ had to growl at him."

Sara sat there quietly for a few minutes absorbing the information with little lines creasing her porcelian forehead. She looked at Emmett lovingly and said, "Geez Em, you're such a freak."

The surprise of her statement shocked me into laughter. It apparently tickled Victoria's funny bone, too, for she began cackling with me.

Once again this dull, dreary room was filled with the melodous sound of laughter. Emmett didn't seem to find it funny being laughed at. He huffed, - and I swear it was indignantly - I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him to my chest and holding him there.

After a while of giggles, Victoria declared that she needed to do my check up and get back to her other patients.

My inspection - which made me feel like a cow for sale - went off without a hitch, and Vicki cheerily said I was free to leave.

Victoria went to the other patients and Sara told me she'd wait out in the lobby while I changed. Thankfully, Sara had the idea to bring new clothes for me, as I was told by other nurses that the clothes I had been wearing during the accident had to be cut off my body. I shivered.

When I was fully dressed and my little night gown was folded neatly on the edge of the bed, I patted my thigh and Emmett jumped up and followed me out. Before I shut the door behind me, I looked around the off-white room and hoped I wouldn't have to come back anytime soon.

With the wooden door shut on my latest nightmare, Emmett and I made our way through the hallway, which was surprisingly vacant and quiet. The only sounds were of my sneakers squeaking with every step and Emmett's toenails making soft little _clicking_ sounds against the tile.

For longer than was necessary, I found myself wandering around the hollowed halls, lost. I wasn't used to this hospital, so even though the little signs on the walls saying where the lobby was, I simply couldn't find it. I hadn't even gone by a flight of stairs or an elevator yet. _Big hospital_, I mused.

I couldn't help but marvel at how silent it was. Shouldn't there be rushing nurses and doctors, screaming patients riddled with bullets, noise and mayhem all around? I glanced at a clock hanging on a wall, it's hands stating that it was afternoon.

_Ah_, I thought, _lunch break_.

After a ridiculously long time turning around corners and finding only more empty paths, I finally saw an elevator. And not a moment too soon, as I could tell Emmett was getting agitated.

Hope renewed, I started walking with new vigor, Emmett tapping along next to me. I quickly learned though that my still-healing body wasn't appreciating my jogging. By the time I was almost to the door, my sides were screeching in protest against my actions.

I stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to slow my wheezing. Surely this isn't what Carlisle had in mind when he told me to "take it easy".

I heaved myself away from the wall and trudged forward, a definite change from my jogging before.

I stumbled ahead, but stopped in my tracks when I heard the undeniable sound of sobbing. Startled, I looked around the hallway for the noise, but I saw no one. Obivously I wasn't the only one hearing it, because Emmett's ears were perked up and he wore an almost confused expression on his furry face.

As the soft crying continued, I walked slowly towards the sound. It lead me to one of the rooms and the door was slightly ajar. I quickly glanced down both sides of the hallway to make sure no one was there or coming. I wasn't sure why I was nervous of being caught, but there was a small prickling of fear in my chest, regardless.

As curious as Pandora with her box, I placed my hand palm-down against the cold door and pushed gently to open it.

At first when I peered inside, I couldn't see anyone at all. Just another off-white room with an empty, made bed.

I almost began to shut the door and continue on with my way when I caught a tiny fraction of a movement in my periphery vision that alerted me that someone was there.

There, huddled in a corner, was a girl.

She had her slim legs drawn up to her chest with her delicate arms arms wrapped around them. Her face was pressed against her knees, and the top of her head was covered with pitch-black hair, cut so short it almost looked like it should belong to a boy. It contrasted so shockingly with her snow-white skin. _She's paler than me_, I thought incredulously.

The soft sobs I heard in the hallway definitely belonged to her as she hiccuped pathetically. As I looked out at the hall, I debated what to do when her near-silent cries turned into a shrieking wail. I jumped a foot in the air, and my mind raced as to why she would scream like that.

_Is she hurt? _

_Does she need help? _

_Is she afraid? _

_Did she see me? _

The adrenaline coursing through my veins screamed at me to choose fight or flight, I finally looked back at the young girl, only to see that her face had never lifted from her arms.

The sweet relief was dizzying, and now I was almost desperate to leave, find the lobby and pretend this strange scene never happened. But something kept me rooted to the spot.

A little niggling sensation bounced around in my head as something tried to be remembered, but I couldn't think of what it was.

It took me another minute of useless thinking before the girl wailed again, and something clicked in my brain like two gears meshing together.

I knew that scream.

It had kept me up last night wondering about it.

_Mary Alice_.

The shock of the realization that the mysterious girl from last night was suddenly in front of me stunned my senses. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.

I remained frozen until I felt a shuffling by my leg, and I willed my dead eyes to look down as Emmett walked into the room, heading straight for Mary Alice.

"Emmett!" I hissed, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The girl didn't give any sign to show that she had heard me.

Emmett padded his way over to the girl confidently as I held my breath. For the first time, I didn't know what to expect from my beloved dog.

And most importantly, I didn't know what to expect from Mary Alice.

Emmett was within touching distance of the girl, and she still hadn't raised her head. I was suddenly desperate to see this mysterious girl's face, the one that had haunted me with her wrenching tones.

I got my wish. Emmett came to a stop in front of her and sat down, and ever so gently, brushed his nose against her forearm where it was clasped around her legs.

Her small gasp was almost indiscernible and her head snapped up, her eyes locked on Emmett, and I had to stifle my own gasp.

She was so . . . empty. Dead. Lost. her face was undeniably beautiful, resembling that of a china doll with her perfect porcelain skin, rounded cheeks, and large eyes framed by thick, dark lashes.

_Her eyes_ . . .

They were so _blue_. Like someone had taken the clearest, purest ocean water and poured some of it into her eyes. Gorgeous, but so haunting. Like this girl had lived a thousand lifetimes, seen a million deaths. The vacant look in them was chilling.

I was suddenly afraid for Emmett. While there weren't any deadly weapons in the room, I still feared what she might do.

Emmett sat there unafraid as Mary Alice unwrapped one hand from her legs and lifted it slowly towards Emmett. I held my breath as that slim, fragile hand hung in the air for what felt like an eternity until it finally came in contact with Emmett.

Mary Alice's hand smoothed over Emmett's face, rubbing the side of his nose, almost _lovingly_, as my dog leaned his muzzle against her stroking hand. I almost couldn't believe my eyes when she folded her arms around his neck and guided him to her narrow chest, to which he happily went along with.

Surely this wasn't the same Emmett, not _my_ Emmett. My dog would have been growling at this foreign girl, yet he snuggled with her as if he'd known her forever.

"Emmett?" I whispered in disbelief, not really knowing I had spoken until Mary Alice's crystal blue eyes locked on mine.

Time seemed suspended as we stared at each other, no one talking, no one moving. I almost ran from her when she raised her hand, palm-up at me, gesturing for me to take her hand. As I pondered fleeing, the fear was suddenly gone. Not like it had disappeared, but like it had never been there to begin with.

I felt my legs glide underneath me, taking me closer to her with each step, her eyes trained on me the entire way.

When I reached her, I crouched down next to Emmett, taking me face-to-face with Mary Alice. Neither of us spoke, but there was a feeling that we didn't _need_ to. We just sat and stared.

With her hand still on Emmett's face, she raised her other hand and let it hang in the air. I knew I should have been wary, but I simply wasn't now.

After a minute with no protests from me, Mary Alice brought her hand down and placed it on my cheek softly.

No one moved now, not even Emmett. I'm not sure how long the three of us stayed like that. It could have been seconds. It could have been years. I didn't know.

A smile played on her small pink lips, lighting up her face. "Bella," she whispered.

The shock of her casual use of my name had me withdrawing from her hand, only her fingertips touching me now.

I was amazed. "How did you -"

"What do you think you're doing in here?" A harsh voice snarled.

I snapped my head back towards the door where an angry looking nurse stood. I glanced back at Mary Alice and she looked saddened.

"There are no visiting hours for miss Brandon," the old woman muttered. _Miss Brandon_? I thought. _Was that Mary Alice's last name_?

The nurse damn-near stomped her foot at me she was so agrivated. "You need to leave. Now!"

I looked at Mary Alice one last time before grabbing Emmett and hurrying out the door, the wretched nurse glaring at me the whole way.

Once in the hallway, I started sprinting towards the elevator again, completely ignoring my screaming injuries as I rushed away from that disturbing moment, Emmett running behind me.

Some doctor had just gotten off the elevator, and I nearly knocked him over in my haste to get in. Earning a glare, I stabbed the first floor button and the heavy doors shut.

My head slumped pathetically against the wall as I tried not to cry. I couldn't believe how saddened I was to be leaving Mary Alice. I didn't even know the girl for crying out loud! So why was I so upset?

I heard a high-pitched whine and looked down to see Emmett staring up at me with the most peculiar expression on his face.

"Don't," was all I could manage to say to him. He huffed and looked at his paws.

All too soon the seclusion of the elevator was replaced by the claustrophobic amount of people in the lobby. Em stayed close to my side as I scanned the crowds for my friends. Sure enough, a head of bouncing blonde curls came rushing up to me.

"Bella! Where have you been? We've been worried sick!" Sara admonished me, and I could see Carlisle coming up behind her with a relieved look on his face.

He reached us and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Bella, where were you?" His quiet, dulcet tones asked.

I shuffled from foot to foot, uncomfortable under their worry. "I kind of got lost."

Sara snorted and rolled her eyes. "How can you get lost in a hospital? There's signs practically everywhere!"

I smiled without humor. "This is _me_ we're talking about, after all." There was no way I was telling them about my run-in on Mary Alice. It was confusing enough without them badgering me about it.

_How did she know my name?_

Carlisle spoke up, messing with some papers in his hands. "Well, next time one of us will accompany you, hmmm?" He questioned.

I nodded. "Yeah, sure." Anything to avoid something like that again.

I noticed Carlisle looking around the lobby with a fond expression on his face. "Well, well, Doctor Cullen, is someone not wanting to go back to Forks? Because I really think this hospital would love to have your expertise." Not to mention Victoria would love it. I had to bite back a smile at the image of Victoria unleashing her charms on an unsuspecting Carlisle.

Carlisle shrugged and smiled. "No. While I did enjoy this hospital's staff and atmosphere, my job is in Forks."

I tried not to roll my eyes at his over-used mantra. But it _was_ his happiness, after all.

"All right," I said, for once giving up the old argument without a fight. He seemed surprised at my concession, but chose not to comment on it. I just didn't have it in me today.  
>Sara clapped her hands together and grinned. "You ready to go?"<p>

More than anything. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Great, I'll just go get my car and pull it up front since it's raining so hard," she scrunched her nose up at the wet windows, as if the constant rain had personally offended her.

"Sounds fine to me," I shrugged.

Sara smiled wider and dashed towards the doors and into the parking lot. I looked back at Carlisle questioningly. He laughed. "She's just excited that you're fine. She's been horrendously worried about you the entire time. She's barely left your side since the accident."

I felt myself softening. "Yes, she's a great friend. Very loyal."

"And spunky, too," Carlisle said joyfully.

I laughed and nodded. "Yes, and spunky," I tagged on.

Carlisle looked at his wrist watch and it reminded me of a question I'd wanted to ask. "Are you going home _now_?" I teased.

Carlisle rolled his eyes playfully, something he rarely did. "Yes, I'm finally leaving now that you are. Satisfied?"

"Never," I stated. It was half true.

We waited for Sara to pull up in silence. Well, I was silent. Carlisle was busy saying goodbye politely to the swooning nurses who _begged_ him to come back soon, while the male doctors gave him dirty looks. I still hadn't found out the problem with that Mark guy and Carlisle. I would have to ask him about that later.

Sara's little red Honda finally pulled up in front of the building, and she honked the horn for me and Emmett to hop in. I walked over to Carlisle and gave him a quick hug. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Not too soon, please," he groaned, and I laughed.

He pulled back from the hug and eyed me sternly. "Remember to take your pain medication. I gave it to Sara, and she'll give it to you when you get home. If you feel _any_ pain at all, come back to the hospital."

"Yes, doctor," I mocked.

He frowned at me. "I'm serious."

I ignored him and Emmett and I made our way to the doors, but I finally had the courage to say what I'd wanted to say. I looked at Emmett apologetically and went back to Carlisle. He had his back turned, and I tapped on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at me in surprise.

"Wow, back so soon?"

I snorted. "Har har. I wanted to tell you something." I pressed. I finally could do it.

He waved off the people he was talking to, signalling I had his full attention. "What is it?"

After the day I had today, all the emotions stirring up and attacking my senses, I was ready to go through with it. No matter how much I would probably hate it.

I took a deep, steadying breath.

"I want to go to therapy."

* * *

><p><strong>Twilight Fanfics recommendations! These are some of my favorite stories on here, and maybe you'll love them, too. <strong>

_**Fox Fire**_**by**_** Woodlily**_**. It's a continuation of Midnight Sun done brilliantly. Totally worth reading. **

**And _Evening Star_ by _CassandraLowery_. It's about what could have happened between the ending of Twilight an the beginning of New Moon. I love this story because the author completely understands the way Edward's devious mind works. It's awesome. **

**So that's it for this impromptu Fanfic recommendations!**


	5. Meet The Doctor

**A.N.: Um, is anyone still there? If you're still reading my story, I want to apologize for the inexcusable delay. All I can say in my defense is: **

**Being a full-time student + a hurricane x a severe case of Writer's Block = a REALLY late update. So sorry. :( **

**Disclaimer: I am not, nor will I ever be the wonderful Stephenie Meyer. All rights go to her, she owns everything, yada, yada, yada . . .**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"All Right" - Sigur Ros.  
>"Guilty Filthy Soul" - AWOLNATION.<p>

* * *

><p>I never thought I'd say it, but I was severely missing off-white.<p>

For I found that nothing was worse than the repugnant yellow-green I was staring at now.

I was sitting on the most ridiculously comfortable leather seat that has ever graced my bottom, but even that couldn't quell my agitation. My leg bounced in annoyence.

I had finaly crumbled and told Carlisle I was ready for therapy, and he, over-come with relief, had signed me up for an appointment in the blink of an eye. With seemingly no difficulties, I was penciled-in for a session for the coming week.

And now here I sat. I was seriously beginning to quesion the state of my sanity if I agreed to endure this purgatory.

Though just by looking at it, there wasn't that many things wrong with this picture. While the vomit-green walls were making me nauseous, the rest of the room was very relaxing and pretty. A small crystal chandelier hung from the bowed ceiling, it's delicate light illuminating the other features in the room.

Large cabinets holding tiny trinkets ranging from fragile porcelain dolls to glass plates. Bouquets of fresh flowers were sprinkled throughout the office, filling it with a delightful fragrence. The gentle lighting reflected off the polished wooden floor, making it almost mirror-like.

Hanging on the horrendously colored walls were many degrees and certificates from numerous colleges. And the degrees belonged to, arguably, the most magnificent item in the room.

Dr. Rosalie Hale sat in a large chair directly across from me, the light shining from her skin almost over-shadowing that of the chandelier.

Her long golden curls were cascading past her shoulders, draping down her back. She wore simple black dress pants and a tailored blazer, but made it seem like she had just stepped off the runway. Her painfully long legs were crossed, a note book balanced on them while a set of perfectly manicured hands held it in place.

She was undeniably exquisite. So you couldn't exactly blame me when I questioned how she could possibly a psychiatrist and not a super-model. For a moment I thought I was being pranked.

Rosalie was a pleasant woman as long as we were talking about unimportant things. Weather. Friends. Things I liked to do. Places I wanted to see. Etc, etc, etc.

But then she'd start throwing out the heavy questions, each one hitting me like a blow.

The car crash.

The trust issues I had.

The _fire_.

Everything I'd tried to repress for so long.

Rosalie suddenly sat up straighter in her chair when I was finished describing my appartment to her, and I knew the hard questions were back.

"Let's talk about Sara, all right?"

I was right again. I felt my face pinch up. "What about her?"

"We discussed your lack of comfort around new people," she began, and I didn't feel like pointing out the irony of talking to a new person about my discomfort around new people. She probably wouldn't get it.

She continued, "I want to know why Sara is in your life, and what she means to you."

I grimaced before slouching down in my seat, not at all excited to have to start story-telling. "We met when I got my job at the bookstore. She was unpacking books when I got there."

Rosalie penciled something down on her piece of paper. "Mmhmm," she hummed as she nodded. "And what drew you to her?"

I laughed for the first time today, remembering. "Her kinky curly blonde hair caught my attention. And then I heard her whining to herself about the work load she had from across the room. I didn't really talk to her - besides introducing myself - until I saw her crying in the bathroom a couple weeks later."

"And what was wrong with her?" Rosalie inquired, her pencil hovering over her pad of paper like a cobra ready to strike.

I sighed. "Her dog, a beagle named Maggie, had just died. She had been Sara's pet for over ten years, had her since she was a pup." That day would forever be marked as the moment we became friends. When I saw her tear-streaked face and heard her whimpering hiccups, I knew I couldn't have turned a blind eye.

"I invited her to my appartment the next day to meet Emmett, hoping he could make her feel better. If anyone could heal a broken heart, Emmett could," I grinned. Rosalie smiled back at me politely.

I still remember Sara's face when she saw Emmett the first time. While he was wary of her, it didn't discouraging her from following him around constantly. She loved him to pieces.

"And did he heal _yours_?" Rosalie asked heavily.

I squirmed in my chair a little, all happy thoughts quickly disappearing. "Well, yeah. He's just that type of person."

Rosalie's pencil stilled over her chart, and her golden brow arched delicately. "_Person_?" She emphasized. "Don't you mean 'dog'?"

"Yes, he's obviously a dog, but sometimes he acts so human it's hard to tell the difference."

"Or have you begun to project your feelings of loneliness and fear of humans onto Emmett, making him into somthing more to you than a dog?"

My lips twitched in annoyence. This was why I hated therapists. They read into every innocent statement, and made it into something that it wasn't. I knew she was just trying to get to the "root" of my problems, she was pissing me off. To insinuate that I had done something like that drove me crazy.

"No. Emmett is a damn dog," I said, irritation bleeding through my teeth. "And I _know_ he's a damn dog. What is your point with all this? When Carlisle pushed me into this, I thought I would be talking about the fire, not you badgering me with completely unfounded accusations!" I huffed, slumping back against the seat while the anger dissapated from me, just leaving me feeling drained.

Rosalie's face remained frustratingly professional and stoic. Her full lips tilted up in a pretty smirk. "Do you _want_ to talk about the fire?"

"Do _you_ think I should?" I countered, thinking I had her.

"What is your heart telling you to do?" She asked innocently, if not insolently.

I had to swallow back the on-coming growl. I closed my eyes tightly and inhaled slowly. _In through the nose, out through the mouth_, I coached myself, trying to remain calm.

After a moment, I opened my eyes and focused on Rosalie, who had a peculiar look in her eyes, one I couldn't place.

"No. No, I don't really want to talk about it. Hell, I don't even want to _think_ about it." Just the mere image of my beautiful home being burnt to the ground shook me to my core.

I straightened my back and stared harder into Rosalie's eyes, unflinching. "But I _need_ to," I continued. Rosalie's eyebrows rose slightly on her forehead, obviously surprised at my sudden change. "If I keep trying to force down the memories and pretend that they aren't there, then they're going to eat at me until nothing is left."

Or so Carlisle says.

Rosalie nodded in what looked to be agreement as she scribbled something else down. "That's a very mature thing to say, Isabella."  
>I knew she wasn't trying to, but her words came out as condescending.<p>

She continued. "I appreciate your cooperation. Start however you please."

I glanced out the window, staring out into the beautiful city of Seattle that I had come to love so much. A bird flew by the window, scurrying away from the frightening sounds we humans made. Cars were honking at each other as they made their mad dashes to their jobs and homes.

A little girl was trotting down one of the sidewalks of the city, clutching her mother's hand as she skipped about. I flinched when her small foot slipped out from under her, causing her to fall onto her hands and kness. Her face pinched up and all though I couldn't hear her crying, I knew that she was. The mother leaned over her weeping child fretfully and kissed the girl's scraped knee. The little girl smiled tentively through her tears and stood up.

I felt my face break into an involuntary and unexpected smile as I watched the scene. How charming that all it takes to make a child forget their woes is a mother's kiss. And that young mother reminded me of someone, someone very dear to me.

She reminded me of _my_ mother.

I stopped smiling.

I turned my gaze back to Rosalie, who was unsettlingly still, staring at me in curious silence.

I sighed and felt my wounded heart steel, preparing itself for this story.

"It was fifteen years ago. I was six years old," I began. "I remember sitting in our big living room. It had light blue walls," I said, surprising myself. It was strange that people could forget huge memories and yet retain something so trivial and insignificant as the coloring of walls.

I continued, my eyes glazing over as I remembered. "I was on the sofa with my mom as she tried to show me how to sew. I was irritated that I couldn't do it nearly as well as she could," I laughed ar myself, shaking my head. Rosalie smiled without lifting her eyes from her chart.

"I guess I had fallen asleep on my mom's lap, for the next thing I knew, I was lying in my bed, and all I could smell was smoke."

I broke off my sentence when a strange sound filled the roon. It was an odd, almost choking sound. It frightened me more when I realized that _I_ was the one making the noise.

Rosalie looked at me with sympathy etched over her gorgeous face. "Please, take your time, there's no need to force it. Try to relax and continue if and when you're ready," she soothed.

I calmed my breathing and smothered my little hiccups, glaring at the wooden floor as I composed myself.

I would not be weak. These memories wouldn't hold me paralyzed any longer.

"The smoke was suffocating. It hung heavily in the air, burning my eyes and filling my lungs. I was working up the oxygen to scream when my dad charged through my bedroom door." The image of my father rushing to my bed with a horrified look on his face hadn't blurred in the slightest from the passing years.

I ground out the next words through my teeth. "He scooped me out of bed and started running out the door with me. When we reached the end of the hallway I could see the flames pouring out of every room.

"Beams were collapsing. The house was falling apart from the inside out. My dad fought his way through it with me craddled to his chest. He took all the fire, protecting me from it as best as he could," I stroked my hand over my thigh, my jeans covering the little scar caused by the only burn I'd received.

I started again, the tears running freely now. I couldn't find it in me to care. "I don't know how, but he got us out of there. He carried me to the neighbor's house across the street." The old lady living there had run outside when she heard our screaming, wearing nothing but a night gown with an obnoxious flower pattern and rollers in her sliver hair.

Another strange little piece of trivia my mind decided to hold onto. I laughed darkly.

"When I turned to look back at my home, it was completely engulfed in fire. I remember screaming, 'Where's my mom?'. My dad didn't answer me, only telling the neighbor to watch me and call the fire station before he ran back across the street and disappeared into the burning house. I didn't realize that would be the last time I ever saw him."

I started sobbing, crumbling. I could feel the individual grains of rubble falling from the walls I had built around myself for all these years. How it hurt to have them fall.

Every last memory assaulting me.

It burned.

As I scrubbed the backs of my hands over my eyes, I noticed the small box of Kleenex had discreetly inched it's way closer to me from across the table. I shot Rosalie a glance, and grabbed a wad of tissues, pressing them to my face.

"Continue when you're ready," Rosalie said gently.

My voice was scratchy and hoarse. "I could hear the fire-trucks coming. They were deafening," I croaked. To this day, anytime I heard the sound of those sirens, I would lock up in terror.

"The fire kept growing to the point where I couldn't see the house it was consuming anymore. I was loosing my mind 'Where's my parents?' I kept screaming, but no one answered me.

"After what felt like countless hours of the fight between the raging fire and the water blasting from the hoses, somehow, the fire died. What remained was _not_ my house. It was nothing but burnt charcoal. Ash was falling back to the ground and gathering like snow.

"The silence was profound. No one had to say anything, but they didn't have to. I could see it in their pitying faces. I knew my parents were dead," I whispered, my heart in little pieces.

How could one little organ take such abuse and still beat?

Rosalie's pencil that had been flying across her notepad so rapidly I swore I saw sparks, had suddenly stilled. She made almost no movements at all.

Just stared at me, not a single expression on her face.

Just stared and stared.

Neither of us said anything for a while after my story was finished. Rosalie could tell I was emotionally spent, so she remained silent.

I glared at the chandelier, the tears rolling faster than the tissues could catch. After a mintue of futile trying, I simply let them run.

I tried to understand the tumltuous feeling coursing through me now that one of my deepest traumas was laid bare. I knew how I was _supposed_ to feel, like a tremendous weight had been lifted from my chest. A relief to let the painful memory escape through my lips. To have a renewed sense of hope for the future. To feel a warm fluttering of happiness blooming in my heart.

It's how I _should_ feel.

But that was just a beautiful fantasy, not anywhere near the reality.

What I actually felt was agony for dragging the tainted memories through the tresses of my psyche. The shame of letting someone know my past and the fear of them having power over my weakness.

But most of all, overshadowing every other emotion ripping me inside out, was the over-whelming feeling of . . . nothingness.

Nothing would change now that Rosalie knew. No matter how hard she would try, she'd never be able to fix me. I was irreparable, I was - nothing.

_All the king's horses, and all the king's men . . ._

I didn't know what expression my face currently wore, but Rosalie's eyes widened slightly. She cleared her throat, the sound straining the silence. "What -" she faltered, her eyes cast down and a unrecognizable tone to her voice. She started again. "What happened to cause the accident?"

Accident. I hated that term. Was that title supposed to soften the blow? I could think of such better names for what happened. _Tragic, blood-curdling, horrifying, incomprehensible, impossible, heart-shattering . . ._

But I digress.

I smudged away the the last of the tears, the tissues nothing more than a ball of salty wetness. I wondered idily if eyes could run out of tears. Could they simply _stop_?

"No one knows, really. Though the investigators that inspected what was left of the house said the most probable situation was that my mother had left the stove on, and that a towel had fallen onto it. That's what caused it. Crazy, huh?"

Something so simple, so _preventable_, had destroyed me so completely.

It was almost funny.

Rosalie looked down at her board for a moment and squinted her eyes. "And your parent's names were Charlie and Renee, yes?"

I nodded mutely. Their names penetrated the hazy cloud of numbness surrounding my brain, pulling me back to the surface slightly.

Rosalie eyes shifted to her intricate golden watch and straighted up in her chair. "Well, Isabella, I think you've done beautifully today. I really think you've started to repair the damage." She smiled brilliantly.

I tried not to laugh. Repair? I've just torn myself open. Was this searing pain supposed to make me feel _better_?

Insanity.

Rosalie stood up gracefully, brushing her hands against the front of her skirt as if to get rid of the non-existent spots there. "I'm afraid that our time together for today is up. I have another patient to attend to." She smiled.

I scrubbed my hands quickly under my eyes. "Oh, yeah, sure. Guess I lost track of time." I grabbed my bag off the floor and hurried over to the door, terribly anxious to leave this place that had cracked open my mouth and let my horrors spill out.

"Bella, wait," Rosalie said gently, though her soft voice startled me. It was the first time she'd called me Bella.

This wasn't going to be one of those moments where she thought she knew me and we'd suddenly become friends because I told her one of my secrets, was it?

Probably not.

Rosalie approached me confidently, her heels clicking against the wooden floors ominously. I couldn't help but shink back towards the door a little at her intimidating stance.

She raised her hand and placed it on my shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, Bella," she said, surprising me. "You shared something with me today that you haven't ever expressed with anyone before, not to mention you did it on the very first session."

Was she trying to tell me I was a pansy? Or that she was just such an awesome psychiatrist that she could unlock my mind within minutes? Or was I just _really_ reading into her words too much?

I'd go with the last option.

"Thank you, Bella. You're going to do great," she squeezed my shoulder before letting her hand drop back down to her side.

There was suddenly a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I swallowed against it unsucessfully and nodded. The smile that was plastered on my face was as painful as it was fake, and I could see the sick-looking expression reflected on Rosalie's blue eyes. I looked like I was about to puke.

I had to get out of there.

I opened the door and did my best to keep my speed regular and not dart out the door. I settled for speed-walking.

I reached the waiting room, almost to the lobby when I heard Rosalie speak from behind me. "Joe, I'm ready for you now."

A small man glanced at her with twitchy eyes, his legs drawn up to his chest as he rocked back and forth on his little chair. He nodded hesitantly at Rosalie's words and slowly stood up, walking towards her, glancing at me every so often out of the corners of his eyes. His nervousness was written all over his face.

Rosalie smiled gently and ushered him into the room I had just been mentally dying in. She turned to me and waved before following him into the room.

The twitchy man stuck in my mind, though. His anxious movements and darting eyes unsettled me deeply.

Was that what I was destined to become? A timid, semi-psychotic shell of what I once was? Making continuous trips to see Rosalie to prevent retreating further into my destroyed mind?

_Or was I already like that?_

I walked faster out of the building, nearly jogging in the parking lot to my rental car. I hated the little tinker-toy I was now riding in, since my car was completely totalled and was hopefully being repaired.

But I guess beggers can't be choosers when you're trying to haul ass out of an uncomfortable situation.

It wasn't until I was securely in the car and pulling out onto the road before I let the salty tears roll again.

.

~)o(~

.

"Hello?" An impatient voice demanded, breaking into my quiet reverie. My eyes refocused back to tangible things, letting go of my clouding thoughts. I glanced up, aware again of my surroundings. Sara was standing next to me, her hands full with a large box.

I blinked at her. "Um, I'm sorry, what?"

Sara huffed at me, incredulous. "You weren't paying any attention to me at all, were you?"

I stared down at my feet. "Sorry . . ." I trailed off, sheepish. I really _hadn't_ heard her. My brain hadn't even registered her presense.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Here," she shoved the heavy box into my empty hands, placing her own on her hips. "These are the new books that we were waiting for. They need to go in th fiction section, shelf 23."

"And what are _you_ doing?" I grumbled, glaring at her now-empty palms. "Unlike me, _your_ body isn't damaged," I motioned down to my still-healing wrist with my head. "Why can't _you_ do it?"

She grinned. "Are you suddenly blind, too? I have my _own_ stack to put away," she gestured behind her, and there were indeed quite a few rather large boxes lurking in the back.

I groaned.

"Not to mention you get _paid_ to put books on shelves," she continued flawlessly, a teasing air in her lilting voice. "Now get back to work, wench, before I fire your ass."

I blew a raspberry at her and gathered up my newly-aquired work load, starting to walk over to where the shelves were.

"Oh, and Bella?" Sara called out to me, and her suddenly serious tone had me turning on my heel. The humor had bled out of her face.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Sara shifted from one foot to the other. "Stay off the ladders, okay?"

The unexpected request had me laughing in surprise. I really didn't mean to laugh at her, honestly.

Sara frowned, her blonde brows pinching together over her freckled nose. "I'm not kidding, and it's not funny."

That quieted my mirth, but I still smiled slightly as I answered her. "Hun, I'll be fine. The only reason I fell in the first place was because it was a faulty ladder."

Apparently, while I had been in the hospital, Mindy had discovered that the ladder I had been standing on had collasped, the old wooden legs crumpling underneath me. Obviously trying to avoid a lawsuit, Mindy had hauled all the old ladders out, replacing them with new metal ones.

Sara's face and opinion stayed firm. "Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded, trying to placate her unnecessary worries as I walked away. I could almost feel her eyes on me. I almost turned around and told her to quit staring so hard, lest I start smoking.

The short walk to the shelves was exactly that, _short_. It didn't give me the time to mentally make this something that it wasn't, for that I was grateful.

So why did I feel so caught off guard? When I passed by the place I had fallen, chills raced down my spine. I looked at the new metal ladder with surprising resentment. I knew I was being completely irrational, so I just tried to shrug off the perplexing emotions and walked just a little bit faster.

I sighed as the spot disappeared out of my line of sight. I don't really know why.

I reached my desired destination and quickly got to work, the process burned into my brain after doing it for just over a year, every single day. Rip open the box. Grab hand fulls of books. Stack them onto the shelves, snugged together. Repeat.

The labor was hardly mentally demanding, so while my hands moved methodically, almost robotically, my mind began to wander to different things.

I thought about Rosalie, about what I had told her. Would I have to explain to her my relationships? Would I have to talk about my parents again, more in-depth?

Would I have to talk about Esme?

My movements slowed to a complete stop, my eyes no longer focused on the books before me. I wasn't even standing in the book store anymore. All I could see was a dark, menacing room.

_The cold tile floor bit into my bare feet, trickling up my shins, piercing through my thighs and settling painfully in my stomach, chilling me to the bone. _

_My eyes darted around the black room, searching for the one figure I couldn't find. My breathing sped and my heart frantically racing ahead of it, leaving me in a sweat. _

_It was gruellingly quiet. I could hear my every breath, every heartbeat. I could hear it if a pin dropped from across the house. So it didn't surprise me when I heard the near-silent foot steps approaching from behind. _

_I stood stock-still, frozen like a deer caught in on-coming head lights. Each foot fall raised an individual goose bump on my arms. The seconds slugged by. _

_I didn't even have to look back to know that she was standing directly behind me. I could just _feel_ it. _

_She sighed._

_I gulped. _

_She struck._

_Her hand crashed down onto my shoulder, her bony fingers digging into the sensitive skin there. I bit into my lips to stop from screaming. She's only get worse if I did. _

_She shook my shoulder. "Where have you been?" She whispered, her voice ice cold. _

_I tried to still my quaking, but a shiver still escaped. "I was at school, you know that." _

_The windowless room blurred in front of my eyes as she spun me around, forcing me to meet her stare. The grey of her eyes pierced into my brown, and I couldn't see any light in her them, no soul. There was nothing. _

_The empty eyes that bored into mine narrowed. "Liar." _

_The terror ripped violently through my chest, reducing me to a near-hyperventilating mess, for I knew what would come next. "No, I'm not! It took me longer to walk home today because of the storm!" _

_And even as the thunder rumbled on outside, filling the room with it's ominous tones, I knew she didn't believe me. _

_"Liar!" She screamed, raising her other hand to my shoulder and began to shake me vigorously. "You're lying to me! Stop it!" _

_"I'm not!" I cried, nearly biting my tongue off as my teeth rattled. _

_"Esme, please!" I sobbed. _

_Her hand moved to from my shoulder, sliding into my hair and fisting there. I cried out in agony as I yanked on it, leading me out through the door and into the cold hallway. I nearly collasped over my own feet as she half-dragged me into her bedroom. She continued pulling until she was standing by the little dresser next to her bed, me half-knealing on the floor. _

_Esme opened up the little drawer and rifled inside before withdrawing, her well-used bible in her hand. She turned back to me, her other hand still wrapped in my hair. _

_"You've been out with those other sinners, haven't you?" Her voice dripped with disgust and fury. _

_I knew she was referring to my school friends. The very few that I had were very well-behaved, but Esme hated and condemmed them anyway. _

_I shook my head as best as I could, secretly trying to dislodge her hand. She hung on tenaciously. _

_"I was stuck at scho-" _

_She cut me off. "You were out being a little whore, weren't you!" She held the bible up high and struck the top of my head, making my teeth crash together. _

_I screamed out in agony, tasting blood. "No, Esme, please!" _

_Esme was too far gone, too inside the demented relm of her mind to actually hear my pleas for mercy. _

_"Be silent!" She screeched, using my hair to angle my head so she could strike me across the face. Again and again, she hit me with her bible while repeating verses from it, for hours it seemed. Every few moments she say her favorite sentence to me: "You must be cleansed!" _

_She loved telling me that. _

_After a while I stopped screaming. I found early on that the blows would lessen if I were quiet. I just endured the brutal beating in silence, thought the tears never stopped rolling down my cheeks, mixing with my blood. _

I was so far in my memory I didn't notice that someone was behind me until a hand was suddenly grasping my shoulder. I didn't know who it was, and some part of my brain _knew_ it wasn't Esme, but my senses were overloaded.

I screamed and dropped the book I had been holding. An accompanying scream echoed behind me, terrifying me further. I spun around, hands clenched and ready to fight when a startled pair of sky blue eyes stared back at me.

It was Sara.

The heady rush of oxygen to my lungs alerted me to the fact that I had been holding my breath. I sagged in relief, relaxing my stiff posture and loosening my fists.

Sara clutched at her chest, her hand directly over her sure-to-be-pounding heart. I knew _mine_ was.

"What's the _matter_ with you?" She hissed. "You just scared the bejeezus outta me!"

Even as the unexpected rush of adrenaline racked it's way through my body, I couldn't help but smile weakly. "'Bejeezus'? What are you, ten?" I teased, hoping to make her laugh and forget my momentary lapse in sanity.

But she was too smart for that.

Her hands landed obstinately on her narrow hips. She exuded annoyence. "No, I most certaintly am not. I just so happen not to cuss like a trucker, like a certain someone I know," she threw a pointed look at me and I stared down at my shoes.

Sara's face and tone softened. "Really, Bells, what's wrong?"

Without warning, hot tears sprung to my eyes, the salt stinging. I tried to swipe at them at them without her noticing, but sometimes Sara was too observent for her own good.

"Oh, honey, what's is it?" She gently coaxed me into her arms. Even though Sara was a head shorter than me, somehow my head ended up on her chest.

Tears ran faster, obsorbing into her pink cotton sweater.

Sara rubbed my back soothingly. "You can tell me," she murmured. She didn't want to push me, but I knew she was painfully curious as to what upset me.

I cleared my throat. "I was just . . . thinking about a time with Esme." I said slowly, testing her reaction.

She didn't disappoint.

"Oh."

Although I had never gone into detail about Esme with Sara, she knew enough about her to make her worried.

Sara spoke after a moment. "And?"

"And . . . I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

I lifted my head off her chest which I noticed was wet with tears. "I'm sorry for scaring you, it's just been one of those days."

Sara smiled. "We've all had one of those. Remember when I wigged out on that customer who kept asking where the Sudoku books were?"

I snickered and wiped away the last of the tears. "Yes, but I mostly remember you groveling at Mindy's feet for her not to fire you. I still can't believe she kept you."

Sara rolled her eyes and snorted. "Please. We all have our off days. And besides, who would fire this face?" Her eyes widen and she pouted out her lips, as if to make herself appear innocent and child-like. She merely looked mischevious to me.

Her devious expression melted away, revealing a softness. "Seriously though, if you need anything, you can _always_ come to me."

I nodded. "I know."

Sara glared around the store before fixing her gaze upon me. "So . . . busy day, huh?"

I sighed. "You have no idea. I got zero sleep last night, then at the crack of dawn I had to go to the mental shack and have a nervous breakdown, and now I'm stuck here slaving over books again."

Sara giggled and nudged my shoulder playfully. "Well, get back to work then, minion." She pointed at the books still remaining.

"Yes, slave driver."

She trotted off after making a whipping motion with her hand.

For a while after that it was silent. The sounds of books settling gently on shelves, Mindy's acyrilics drumming against the counter as she read the latest celebrity gossip magazine, pretending to be working. The soft ring of the bell over the door announcing that a customer had arrived. I actually felt pretty comfortable and relaxed, something I didn't think I'd feel after opening up and letting things out.

I thought that paralyzing numbness was going to stay with me, but on the drive to work, it's like it just . . . vanished. The numbness was gone.

I was lighter - happier.

But I wasn't telling Carlisle that. His favorite thing in the world to say is, "I told you so". I wouldn't give him that satisfaction just yet.

I was pretty surprised when Mindy came over to me and declared that I didn't have anymore boxes to unload. I looked at my watch, and was pleasantly startled when the numbers told me it was five past four. End of my shift.

"Oh," I dead-panned, blinking. Well, what was I going to do now?

I could only hope this sudden joy would stay with me.

Sara must have heard Mindy telling me to leave, for she ran up behind me.

"You're going home?" She said quietly, her eyes hyper-focused on me.

I fidgeted with my coat, uncomfortable under her intense stare. "Um, yeah. My hours are done. Time flys when you're having fun, huh?"

Sara ignored my weak attempt at small talk. "You're driving yourself home, aren't you?" She acused, her little teeth worrying her bottom lip.

I sighed and turned back towards her fully to look in her nervous eyes. "Hun, not this _again_. I drove myself to the psychiatrist's office and back, and took myself here without catastrophe. It was an accident, a fluke. I'm not a bad driver, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It won't happen again."

It wasn't as if I had a target painted on my back.

"Yeah, well, but this is the first time you've driven home from _here_ since the accident. It could happen again."

The look on my face had her protests dying.

Her face gentled. "I just . . . I don't know. I'm really worried about you. You really don't know what your accident did to me."

I walked over to her and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested my cheek on the top of her head. "Love ya, booger," I whispered, my heart all mushy from her sweet words.

"I love you, too. You're my very best friend, so please keep yourself safe."

"Yes ma'am," I said, untangling myself from her. Her obstinate arms stayed locked around my waist until I had to pry them off.

"Are you _sure_ you want to drive yourself home? Because you could ride with me, and you know, not die."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm good, but thanks for the offer."

"You're _sure_?"

"Positive."

I waved and opened the door, the little bell singalling that I was leaving. Mindy barely looked up from her magazine as I left, throwing me a half-hearted wave.

I pulled up the hood of my jacket, the rain slushing down and coating me completely. I loved it.

Once on the road with the heater cranked and the engine humming, I simply felt relaxation at going home. My thoughts were trivial and simple. What I was going to make for dinner, if I had payed the electricity bill, that I had a basket full of laundry that needed tending to. Simple, easy things that kept my mind relaxed.

But I couldn't help flinching as the spot drifted into my line of sight.

The traffic light flashed yellow, before stopping at red, making my little car come to a complete stop. I tried to keep my mind on those pleasant little thoughts that had been circling in my mind, but I kept looking out the corner of my eye for the headlights that I imagined daily.

When the light turned to green, my car didn't move. I stared at that light until I thought it was going to catch fire under my gaze. I don't know how long my car sat there, but eventually the car behind me had enough and began honking it's horn at me, the driver motioning me to move forward angrily.

I shook my head to clear it, and rolled slowly through the intersection, keeping my eyes trained on the spot where the other car hit me. No cars were coming.

Once I was away from the intersecting paths and was secure, I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

Beyond that point, my previous mood returned. I was actually content when I arrived at my appartment building.

Strolling through the lobby, my sneakers once again squeaking against the tile, the receptionist looked up at me and smiled. "Hey, Bella, how's your day gone?"

I didn't bother stopping, just continued to stroll towards the stairs, desperate to get to my room and sleep. "Fine, Jane, just fine."

She grinned and resumed answering the phone, somehow satisfied. She was an odd one.

Once again on my beloved thirteenth floor, I hurried to my appartment door. Just knowing that sweet relief waited for me on the other side had me practically dancing. I took me a few times to get the key properly in the doorknob, but the door finally swung open.

And I hadn't walked two steps in the door when I was promptly knocked down.

"Emmett!" I squealed as he lashed my face with his slobbery tongue. "Hi! I guess this means you missed me?"

His lips pulled back, almost like a smile, his doofy face making me laugh as he started a sneezing fit as he tail went nuts. I laughed and pulled him off, heading into the kitchen.

Dinner was a quiet event. Emmett sat next to me as I made a simple dish of pasta for myself. He laid down at my feet by the table, waiting patiently for the bites of my food that I always gave him.

After doing a quick check of my emails and cleaning up a little, I decided to just call it a night and go to bed. There was no need to drag what was left of the day on.

Stripping down to my under garmets, I slid under my fluffy covers and rolled over onto my side, my eyes drooping closed.

A soft whine made me crack an eye open. Emmett was sitting on the floor next to my head, staring at me with hurt, big brown eyes. His expression was heart-breakingly sad.

"Oh, you know you can get up here," I said and patted the empty space next to me. Emmett's ears instantly perked up and he launched himself onto my bed, settling himself down; taking up much more space than necessary, I might add.

"Why do you even hesitate? You sleep up here every night, anyway," I grumbled.

He responded to my tone with a huff before becoming silent.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

.

~)o(~

.

It couldn't have been more than a moment when I was abruptly woken back up. Or at least that's what it felt like.

The sound of Emmett's deep, heavy growling mixed with the bass of his barks had me flying upright in my bed.

Disoriented, I looked at the little digital clock on my night stand. _2:32 AM_.

I turned towards the sound of his barks. "Em, what are you-" The words died in my throat as I looked at Emmett. His hackles were raised, his lips were pulled back from his teeth so far it looked like they would touch each other on the top of his nose. Snarls ripped from his bared teeth. He was practically frothing.

But even as disturbing as those things were, the one thing he was doing worried me the most.

He was snarling and barking - at the _wall_.

He was having a Mexican Stand-off with the wall paper, and I was seriously considering that he had lost his mind.

I shifted the blankets off of me and got out of bed as silently as possible, creeping towards him slowly, but he acted as if I wasn't even there. When I could finally see his face fully, I noticed his eyes were trained on something in the air it seemed like. I followed the path of his gaze, but my eyes only saw the wall.

I counted back the years in my head, trying to remember when his last rabie shots were. He had surely become diseased, lost his mind.

But of course, he was perfectly healthy.

I had to get him to stop making such a racket before the neighbors tried to get rid of him again. They weren't exactly keen on having a "mutt" like Emmett staying in their building with them. Sara deemed my neighbors "pretentious bastards".

Can't say I disagree with her.

"Emmett?" I whispered, raising my hand and brushing it tentively over his ear, which was pressed flat against his skull.

His barking suddenly cut off, and not a sound was made from him in that moment. The silence that followed was almost dizzying in the wake of the cacophony of noise before.

I didn't have much time to rejoice in the calm, for Emmett almost immediately started back up again, only this time his growls weren't reserved for the wall. Emmett charged out of the bed room and raced down the narrow hallway, crashing through the living room and shattering a lamp before stopping directly in front of the front door. His snarling returned with a vengence. He stood on his hind legs and scratched at the door with his paws as he howled.

The unexpected pounding coming from my ceiling told me that my upstairs neighbors were about to call the front desk and complain about Emmett. Again.

Pretentious bastards.

But I didn't have much time to get him to shut up if I wanted him to stay. I raced over to him, but was hesitant to touch him, unsure for the first time as to if he would bite me. My fear of losing him made me act.

"Em, _stop_!" I grabbed him by his collar and jerked him backwards, his nails scrapping of the door, leaving marks. "What is _wrong_?"

It was a long tug-of-war, me pulling him back towards the bedroom as he fought against my hold to get back to the damn door. I somehow managed to tug him through the hallway and pushed him into the bedroom and shut the door with him inside. His furious barks followed me back out into the living room.  
>I tried to place what was left of the lamp back on the end table, but alas, the porcelain was nothing more dust. I was going to strangle that dog.<p>

But now that I was farther away from Emmett's sound-cancelling barks, I could faintly hear voices shouting down the hall. I knew it had to be about Emmett.

I was vaguely wondering if I should go out there and try to persuade them to not say anything when I heard the noise of something rattling. I glanced up from the lamp and looked around the living room. Nothing was moving, and Emmett wasn't making that sound. I frowned, perplexed.

I was just about to right it off as my imagination when I heard it again. I swivelled toward the front door, and saw the doorknob jiggling, resulting in the sound.

Was it the appartment staff, checking to see if everything was okay, or an angry, tired neighbor ready to demand that my dog be kicked out as soon as humanly possible?

"Hello?" I called.

Nothing.

The jiggling stopped.

"Hello?" I tried again, moving towards the door.

This time I was greeted with the unmistakable sound of footsteps moving away from the door. I grabbed an oversized t shirt from the floor and hurried towards it faster now, and jerked the chain out of it's latch and unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. I leaned out into the hallway and scanned it, looking up and down.

Vacant.

"_Hello_?" I tried one last time.

Absolute silence.

I wanted to turn back around and try to find some way to go back to sleep, but I knew I needed to talk to my neighbors. Resolved to not going to bed, I shut the door behind me softly and marched down the hall where the voices grew louder.

After a minute of walking of the hall, I could finally see a bunch of people conveyed around each other, talking harshly and throwing their arms around animatedly.

I weaved my way into their group and tried to calm things down. "Hey! Hey!" I yelled, trying to grab their attenion as they shrieked angrily. "What's going on?"

Mrs. Denali, a weathered middle-aged woman clinging desperately to her youth with spray tans and excessive amounts of aerobics fixed me with a glare. She hated me and Emmett, saying he was a nuisance, always badgering her dreadful cats, which was a lie.

"Haven't you heard?" She questioned.

"Heard what?"

Mrs. Denali sighed dramatically as if enlightening me would cause her some great hassle. "There's a lunatic running through the building."

"_What_?" I exclaimed, startled. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Denali rolled her eyes at me and I thought I heard her mumble, "idiot" under her breath as she tightened her robe around her. I wanted to lunge at her, but my _one_ kind neighbor inadvertantly spared Denali by cutting in.

"There's reportedly been some guy going through the building and trying to break into rooms," Angela Weber, a quiet, mousy girl informed me. Angela was a kind soul, and never bothered me about Emmett. Needless to say, she was the only nice person to me here.

"He tried to break into _my_ appartment!" Denali shrieked, outraged.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her. "Has he been found?" I asked Angela.

She shook her head, her face worried. "No. But they think he left; a few minutes ago, actually."

"Well, did he actually get anything? Break in to people's homes, I mean."

"No, thank God," Mrs. Denali said. She huffed and attempted to smooth down her strawberry blonde hair, which was sticking up in every direction. "Could you imagine if he had actually broken into my home? I have incredibly valuable jewery!"

I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose and cuss her out. Apparently Angela felt the same way about Denali's hubris, for she just shook her head.

"He just kind of randomly broke into people's doors. But it was odd, once he opened the door, he just shut it again, not taking anything."

A robber who broke into homes and didn't take anything? Really?

I wanted to ask more about it, but Angela stepped forward and spoke gently but firmly, surprising me with her forwardness, something uncharacteristic of her from what I knew.

"Let's all just go back to our rooms and try to get some sleep, okay? The only thing we can do is lock our doors and hope the police catch this guy."

I nodded in agreement with her, and the people grumbled a bit, but complied nonetheless. I chuckled to myself as Mrs. Denali whined to her husband about their safety, to which he merely rolled his eyes and nudged her along.

I turned back to Angela, where she too watched the people disperse. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked her.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I'm just going to lock my door extra tight tonight." She started to retreat, walking back towards her room. She turned back to me after a few steps. "If you need anything, just holler, all right?"

"Sure. Thanks, Ang." I waved and turned back.

Walking down the deserted hallway, I couldn't help but feel exposed due to the knowledge that I now knew. A robber in the building? How . . . disturbing. Shouldn't have security have known that he didn't live here, having no business being here? Or did they just let any Tom, Dick, and Harry in here, too?

I soon returned to my door, feeling a wave of relief to be back home safely and out of the open. And I noted with relief that Emmett had mostly quieted. I smiled.

I turned the doorknob, and the door wouldn't budge. Confused, I tried again, shoving against the door.

_Son of a _-

I had locked myself out.

I had forgotten that they doors locked automatically when shut, and my key was inside, tucked in the pocket of the jains I had stripped off before I hopped into bed.

I groaned and slumped against the unwavering door, annoyed and distressed. I could hear Emmett whining inside. I could almost cry at the panicked tone in his voice.

I knew I had to go down to the front desk and ask for my spare key. But the thought of walking through the building alone, even though the guy was supposed to be gone, scared me more than it should have.

I forced myself away from the door and almost ran down the hallway as I dashed pathetically for the elevator. The frenzied state my mind was putting me in was draving me mad. I stabbed the button unnecessarily hard, and I sighed when the doors closed and the descent began. I just didn't feel safe for some ridiculous reason.

When the metal doors opened and I hurried out into the lobby, I saw Jane talking to two security guards. _You're doing a fabulous job_, I thought nastily. I instantly felt bad for my childish thought. It wasn't their fault that there was a psycho here.

I approached them, just wanting to get my spare key and go on my way. Jane looked up at me when I got close, and her face twisted into an expression I couldn't catch before she turned back to the guards.

I just caught the end of her sentence when I was finally next to her. ". . . Thank you gentlemen for your time. I'll tell her."

And with that, the two men sauntered off, discussing about reviewing security tapes. I turned to look at Jane fully, who was biting her nail.

"You'll tell who what?" I asked. She squirmed a little.  
>"Bella, come here for a minute," she said and tugging me towards her desk.<p>

"You don't really have to tell me, I was just being nosy," I said, pulling my arm back slightly. "I just - stupidly - locked myself out of my room and I need the spare key."

She locked her eyes on me. "Bella, do you know someone uninvited was in our building?"

I nodded, uncomfortable. "Yes. That's why I left my room, to see what the neighbors were yelling about."

"Do you know what he was here for?"

"To rob somebody?" What was with all the questions?

She sighed and moved around to the back of her desk, opening up a drawer and pulling out something.

"Isabella, he apparently dropped something while he was here. The security guards just found it, and I don't want to alarm you, but I think you should see this . . ."

She handed the small piece of paper to me. I grasped it curiously and stared at it.

My world tilted on its axis.

Suddenly my doorknob rattling made complete sense.

My stomach heaved, though there was nothing to expel.

For the face that stared up at me from the small picture was one I knew all too well.

It was _mine_

The man was looking for _me_.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Okay, I'm not sure if you enjoyed that, and this chapter nearly killed me with Brain Blockage, but I finally, FINALLY have all my crap straightened out. I know EXACTLY where the story is going, and I will be updating much faster now, though the chapters WILL be shorter. Maybe 4K per chater. Sound good?<em>**

**_Leave me a review saying what you thought, and what you think (or hope) will happen later. _**

**_Just stick with me guys, I swear it will make sense. It's all going to pick up in speed now._**


	6. Carnival Of Tomorrow

**AN.: Wow. You know how I said in the last update that the next chapter would be out sooner? Apparently I'm a filthy liar. As always, I'm _so_ sorry for the late update. But I am a full time student, and I baby-sit for my neighbors _every week day_, plus I take painting lessons Monday and Thursday nights. So I only have an hour or two over the weekend to work on my stories, if that. So please just be patient and hang in there with me. :) **

**This story is not beta-ed. Any and all mistakes are mine, and if you point any out that I missed, I'll fix it. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor do I own Twilight or the characters. I simply play with them.**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"Easier to Run" - Linkin Park.  
>"Don't Listen to a Word You've Heard" - Justin Nozuka.<p>

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, 'There's nothing you can do'?"<p>

I was pacing through the Seattle Police station, exasperated as hell. For hours it had seemed, I had been in there arguing back and forth to whomever would listen.

There weren't many willing to listen.

The man I was currently harrassing was the Chief of police. His name tag decried his title to be Harry Clearwater. He was a weathered man, with heavy furrows in his forehead and frown lines that disappeared into his sliver moustache. He surprised me with his older age, knowing that you needed to be youthful in this job. But I could tell from the few short conversations I'd witnessed between him and his fellow officers that they respected him deeply.

Harry leaned back into his chair, rubbing his fingers over his eyes in agitation. "Miss Swan, we've been through this. We're looking for him, but it's going to take a while. He's not just going to pop up and say 'Take me to prison now!',"

I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling at him. I knew what he was saying was only the truth, but it didn't make me any less angry. My nerves were stretched thin and I didn't need him needling me.

Seeing my twitchy demeanor, his leathery face softened, as did his tone. "There's nothing I can do for you right now. I'm sorry."

I stopped pacing the small room and wheeled towards him, stalking over to his desk. I knew I was acting irrationally, but at that point I couldn't bring myself to care. Not when I knew there was a psychopath out there with me as his target.

I braced my hands on his desk and leaned forward, staring into his grey eyes. "Please Chief Clearwater, I'm honestly terrified. I don't feel safe _in the least_. There must be something you can do. _Please_."

Harry leaned back and sighed, kneading his temples with his eyes pinched shut. He heaved another sigh before glaring out the window, fiddling with his name plate.

I could tell he was roaming around in his thoughts, so I kept silent, even though the waiting was killing me slowly.

The stilted quiet lasted a few more agonizing minutes before his gaze shifted back to me. His mouth twisted. "I can only double the security at your appartment complex while you're there. There is a boom in crime rate around here, and I don't have a lot of people to hand out. If things were quieter, I could have given you a guard to follow you around. But for right now, it's all I can deal out. Understand?"

I nodded, knowing he was giving me a good option.

Finally remembering my ridiculous stance, I bucked off his desk, feeling childish. It wasn't this mans fault that there was a sociopath that may or may not be after me.

I turned towards the door now that the conversation was done.

"Ma'am?" His gruff voice asked me from behind. I turned back to see that Harry had risen from his chair but remained behind his desk, his fingertips pressed to the smooth mahagony.

His thin lips twisted into a frown. "I'm truly sorry, miss. We'll do all that we can."

I smiled at him. "I know. Thank you," I nodded to him and walked out into the hallway.

The Seattle Police Department was a busy place, to say the least. The telephones were painfully shrill and constantly ringing. Papers were everywhere. People were constantly rushing and dashing about, leaving me unnerved.

Police stations had always frightened me. My father was a Forks police officer, a great one at that. I had always been so proud of him. But on the rare occations that he had taken me down to the station to see what his job was like, it put me off. I didn't like the noise and the clatter. I didn't like it when my dad pulled me closer to my side when a person was brought in wearing hand-cuffs. But he was so very _proud_ of his occupation, and I knew he wanted me to take pleasure in going to where he worked, so I had always agreed to go with him, even though it had some-what terrified me.

I swallowed hard at the mental picture of my father's face. After the "emotional break-through" in therapy with Rosalie, unwanted memories of my parents were building up in my mind. At night, if I was plagued by the horrifying thoughts of my stalker, I was battling away the emotions my parents brought.

Happiness. Terror. Anger. Love. Joy. Fear.

_Pain_.

I had to get out of here.

I smiled sheepishly at the officers as I hurried out of their way; but mostly to get out of the building.

I breathed a heaving sigh of relief when I left the place, the cloudy, grey sky greeting me. I hurried out to the rental car.

The car ride was tumultuous, to say the least. I fluctuated over the need to go to work, and the want to stay home. There wasn't anything I wanted more than to go back to my appartment, gather up Emmett in my arms and hide under the covers like a small child. But I knew I had to start living again. Sara's near-constant messages never let me forget it.

It had been a couple of days since the Earth-rocking night of discovery. Ever since, I had been on self-induced lockdown. I had practically entombed myself in my home. All the doors had been locked, (and installed with _new_ locks) the blinds were drawn, and my butcher's knife had found it's new home on my nightstand. It was times like then that I would wish I had invested the time to get a gun permit.

Having to fight off sociopaths with cooking utensils didn't exactly feel safe to me.

So there I had stayed, holed up in my bedroom with Emmett glued dilligently to my side. Even though I had tried to appear calm, I'm sure he sensed my distress, for he stayed on alret the whole time.

Carlisle had even come by, though I nearly impaled him. I laughed nervously at the memory.

_I was walking back from the small kitchen with a glass of water in my hand, going towards my room. Last time I had checked, it was around eleven in the morning. _

_Three, quick raps came from my door. _

_My heart clenched painfully. _

_Was it . . .? _

_I didn't give myself the time to process that question. I would lock up if I thought about it too much. _

_I shook myself out of my stupor and darted into the kitchen, grabbing a knife of the counter, and turning back to the hallway. _

_More knocks came, fast and almost impatient. _

_I held my breath as I walked to the door, the air around me heavy. Questions assaulted me as I moved forward. Should I call the police? No, they won't get here in time. Should I get Emmett? _No._ I couldn't risk getting him hurt. _

_I was then standing in front of the door, severely wishing these appartments had peak-holes. I slowly started unlocking the bolts, being incredibly silent. _

_Two bolts down. One to go. _

_The shadows the person's feet made showed under the door. My heart was grinding it's way out of my chest. _

_The last lock slid open. I held my hand on the doorknob. Counted to three. _

_Reared back the knife and flung open the door with a scream. _

_The resulting yelp almost scared me more than my imaginnings. _

_Carlisle had jerked back a couple of feet and was covering his head with his arms, breathing as heavy as I was. _

_"Carlisle?" I exclaimed. I didn't know what emotion was stronger; the relief that it was only Carlisle, or the disappointment that I couldn't pummel my stalker. _

_Carlisle lowered his arms and looked at me with pure shock, his mouth opening and closing in astonishment. "What are you _doing_?" He demanded. _

_"I could ask you the same thing! Why are you here?" _

_He wallked towards me cautiously, and I wanted to laugh. Why would he be so nervous? It was like I was going to stab him now that I knew who he was. _

_"I came to check on you. Sara has been calling me and asking me to talk to you. We're worried," he stood in front of me now, his eyes on the knife. "And rightfully so! Why are you carrying this? Give it to me," he held out his hand for it. _

_I rolled my eyes, but dropped it in his palm nevertheless. "Why not? You think I'm just going to let him waltz in here and kill me without at least tring to gouge his eyes out?" _

_Now Carlisle rolled _his_ eyes, something rare for him. It always made him look so much younger. _

_He ushered me back into the appartment. "Let's go in, we need to talk. And pray tell, do you have any more sharp things you intend to impale me with?" He murmured drily. _

_I laughed._

He had stayed with me almost that entire day, just trying to get me out of the appartment. I couldn't do it, and he eventually left, exasperated. I had stayed holed in my room for a couple more days after that, but I knew it had had to stop.

After days of doing nothing but sweating, I knew I had to get back to reality. Mindy had been nice enough to let me of work, but I knew thay wasn't to last much longer.

I needed to get back.

I stared at the digital clock on the dashboard. _2:10 PM_.

I groaned. I only had twenty minutes to get to work if I wanted to go.

Did I?

The intersection came up, one side taking me back to the appartment, the other to work. I almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that.

I sighed and turned left, on the way to work.

~)o(~

Sara was standing in the parking lot when I pulled up, her hands thrust deeply into her pockets. Her face was unreadable, obscured by her hoodie.

I turned off the engine and hopped out, concern seeping into my veins. "Sara? What are you doing?" I called out as I shut the door.

She didn't answer.

She walked towards me when I spoke, sloshing through the rain. Not saying one word.

The icy fingers of fear began to constrict my chest, but I breathed deeply and refused to let my imagination get ahead of me. I started jogging to her, all the while being careful of my feet so I didn't fall and get myself another ticket to the emergency room.

"Hey," I panted, trying to force her to drop her stoic expression. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, but it didn't run deep. Her eyes shifted quickly through the parking lot, not settling on anything in particular. I follwed her gaze, but didn't see anything of interest.

"What is it?" I demanded impatiently. The anxiety was killing me.

Sara finally snapped out of it. "Nothing," she circled her arm around my shoulders, drawing me close to her side.

"C'mon, let's go inside," she pulled the umbrella over us, though it was a moot gesture at that point. My hair was plastered to my face and my clothes were soaked.

We shuffled back to the store, it's light shining through the windows like a beacon. But Sara didn't stop glancing around until we were inside. Her demeanor changed almost instantly upon entering the building. Her smile became natural, her body language softened, relaxed. She even made a light-hearted comment about Mindy.

I frowned. What - or _who_ - was she looking for? Why was she being so attentive?

I didn't press her about it. I figured if she wanted to talk about whatever it was, she'd tell me when she was ready. So we remained silent.

She wiped down the counter tops, I sweeped and mopped the linoleum floors. The day rolled on, barely any customers. Though every time that bell rung, I felt a wave of nausea. I couldn't help but wonder if the person walking in was the freak looking after me.

I knew well enough that monsters didn't always come in ugly packaging.

The door dinged again, and both Sara and I turned to greet the newest customer.

A wave of blonde hair and blue eyes greeted us in return.

Sara gasped and dropped the rag she was carrying She charged at the boy and wrapped her arms around his neck in a choke hold.

"_Jasper_!" She shrieked, startling some other customers. Mindy gave her a dirty look a made a hand gesture, telling Sara to "zip it".

Sara ignored her. "Dude! What are you doing here!"

Jasper smiled and shrugged. "I decided to come a month early."

Jasper Whitlock was Sara's cousin, though they looked shockingly alike, almost like siblings. Though they weren't brother and sister, they acted like it. For as long as I had known Sara, I had known Jasper. He was practically a brother to _me_ now.

He lived out in Colorado, though, so he wasn't around much. Sara had mentioned that he was going to be visting her and would be here next month, and his unexpected show up startled us all.

"What are you doing here? How - why are you here?" The words were pouring so fast out of her mouth it was hard to keep up.

"I just flew up to Oregon, then just took buses to get here." He said, matter-of-fact.

Sara slapped him on the shoulder, her face teasingly angry. "Buses? Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up."

"Then it wouldn't have been a surprise," he said, and his voice carried a tone of _duh_.

Sara giggled and simply hugged him again. He drew back and smiled at me. "Hey Bells, long time, no see," he held out his arms, wanting another hug.

I grinned and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I know. Maybe if you moved here, we'd all be able to spend time together," I hinted.

Sara and I had been plotting ways to get Jasper to move here ever since I first met him. He was an honestly great person, and he always made Sara happier.

Jasper shook his head at me. "Nope, I couldn't leave Colorado's mountains. They have me hooked."

"We have mountains _here_, you know," Sara pointed out, crossing her arms.

"They're just not the same. Colorado wins everytime, hands down."

Sara poked out her lip, pouting adorably. "Even over _me_?" Her voice was heart-breaking.

Jasper wasn't fazed. He grinned devilishly. "Yep."

She slugged him in the arm, and they both disolved into laughter. I loved watching them, the way they lit up around each other, making the other feel better no matter what. It also made me long for a brother or sister of my own, a companion to whittle away the hours with like they had.

But I knew that was absurd. I felt silly even thinking out it.

Jasper noted my melancholly expression and leaned towards Sara. "What's wrong with Bella?"

"I'll tell you later," she whispered back.

"Guys, I'm right here. I can hear everything you're saying," I barked out to them. They only smiled and shrugged.

Sara turned to me and drew me into a side hug. "You know what you need?" She asked me unexpectedly.

While I knew it was rhetorical, I couldn't help myself. "A new life?"

Sara rolled her eyes and shoved me. "No, ding-bat. We need to get you out of here," she waved her hand around the store.

I almost didn't want to ask. "And go where?"

Her eyes sparkled. "We're going to the Seattle State Fair."

~)o(~

The ride to Evergreen where the fair was was made of off-key singing to the soothing tones of the Beastie Boys album, Licensed To Ill, and making crude hand gestures to the other drivers.

All of these things done by Sara, of course.

Sara's idea of driving would make a Nascar driver cringe. Speeding terrifyingly over the limit, swerving through the other cars, once even blazing through a red light.

As I clutched the door handle in terror as she cussed-out a driver who cut her off, I couldn't help but note the irony that _she_ drove like a maniac, yet _I_ was the one who got in a near-deadly accident.

Poetic, wasn't it?

After twenty minutes of dispicable racing, Sara's grin widened drastically.

"What is it?" I muttered, glaring through the shining windshield.

Maybe there was an innocent old lady that she could run over in her haste.

She ignored me, and the little Volkswagen rolled on as Sara sat in excited silence.

We jerked to a stop, the engine popping in protest. The damn car was older than my truck. I was so focused on the beast of a car that I didn't notice where we had stopped.

She clapped her hands together. "We're here!" she declared, letting out a delighted squeak.

And so we were. As I looked out the window, I saw the people waiting impatiently in line for the rides, the little foods stalls selling beverages, candies, various forms of fried foods ranging from Twinkies to butter.

My gaze finally settled on the towering rollercoasters that seemed to brush against the clouds in their heights.

I gulped.

Sara grasped both Jasper and I's wrists. "C'mon!"

She walked ahead of us, pulling me along as she practiclly danced to the ticket booth. A middle-aged man sat behind a thick glass window, half-asleep.

"How many?" He droned in a bored tone, barely even looking up at as.

"We're going to need twenty tickets each for three people."

He broke out the tickets, and held his hand under the small opening in the glass. "Seventy bucks."

As dug in her pocket, she whispered to me, "Damn. How about I just give him an arm and leg for that price?" I smothered my giggle.

After retrieving the tickets, we quickly made our way to the gates of the fair, Sara vibrating with pure joy.

Stepping into the fair grounds was definitely a sight to see. But not the rides or anything.

It was Sara's reaction that made it all worth it.

She froze in place, her blue eyes as big as saucers as she took in her surroundings. She was completely over-whelmed.

"What should we do first?" She murmured in awe.

I could see Jasper eyeing the firing-range with covetous eyes, Sara was torn between the play booths and the unsettling rides.

Me? I just wanted to go home.

It wasn't that I didn't like amusement parks. I actually did. I just didn't enjoy being so . . . _exposed_. With the sudden developments in my life, - and the resulting paranoia - I felt like everyone could be a suspect, present company excluded, of course.

I didn't have the chance to voice my discomfort before I was being pulled on numerous rides. I was ready to puke my guts out after the third time riding the Tilt-A-Whirl, especially after eating a stick of deep fired butter, under much duress.

It was revolting, to say the least.

After what felt like hours of restless excitement, Sara was finally starting to calm down. We were then simply stolling through the Midway, just enjoying the people watching the rides.

We were walking past the Enterprise when Jasper's face stretched into a smile. "Hey's there's one of my friends from my old school here. I'm going to go say hi," he told us, and said he'd catch us later. "Hey, Mikey!" Jasper shouted as he strolled over. A blonde boy smiled and waved back, jogging then towards Jasper.

I smiled over at Sara as we walked past the next ride. "Are you seeing everything you wanted to here?" I asked.

She nodded happily and slurped on her gigantic Icee. "Though there aren't as many rides as I remembered when I went here as a kid," she frowned.

I could almost weep with relief from that innocuous statement. If I saw one more spinning ride, I was going to harm something.

I hid my joy and adopted a patronizing tone. "It's all right. I mean, we're having fun, right?"

"Yeah."

If you counted throwing up "fun", then we were having a _blast_.

We were on our way to the Orbitor - much to my dismay - when Sara stopped dead in her tracks, her blue eyes locked on something.

"Oh, my . . . ," her voice trailed off.

"Sara? What is it?" I glanced around, half-hoping to see a person who could help me if she was going to have an epileptic moment.

She grasped my wrist and turned me to her line of sight. She pointed to a discrete booth nestled in between two others.

_New Moon: Psychic Readings._

"C'mon!" She yelled, dragging me along. We ran to the small tent, Sara nearly mowing people down in her renewed excitement.

She brushed the cloth piece covering the entrance out of the way, and we walked into another world.

There weren't crystals hanging from the ceiling. There weren't strange statues littering the place. There weren't cats everywhere. There wasn't any music playing.

So how did this qualify as another world?

It was the _tone_ of the room.

There was so much peace here, so very calm and relaxing. It made me feel better than I had in a week, and I had simply stepped through the door.

It was unbelievable.

My eyes wandered to the table, the only piece of furniture in the dark room besides a chair in front of it. But I didn't pay much attention to either. My eyes were glued to the small person _behind_ the table.

The sight that awaited me shocked me to my core.

It was Mary Alice.

I froze, even stopped breathing. Mary Alice wasn't looking in our direction, her attention occupied with a deck of cards. I contemplated simply turning around and leaving without a word.

_She hasn't heard you,_ my mind whispered to me, _she doesn't know you're here. You can just walk out and pretend that you never even saw her . . . _

I began to turn around when her black haired head lifted and her blue eyes locked on me.

_Shit_.

"Bella. I've been waiting for you," she smiled, her wind chime voice crystal clear.

Sara turned to me abruptly, surprise written all over her face. "You know each other?" She waved her hand between Mary Alice and I.

"Kind of, yeah."

If Mary Alice thought I was ever going to tell anyone where I "ran into her", she was severely mistaken. I would be taking that chill-inducing fiasco to the grave.

But I was still reeling from the simple fact hat Mary Alice was in front of me. Not locked up. Not disheveled. Not screaming.

Instead, she sat calmly and pristinely behind the table. Somehow she was exuding a grace without even moving.

She wore a simple charcoal colored dress, shockingly stark against her cream skin. Her hair was nothing like the tangled mess when I saw her at the hospital, as it was subdued into a beautiful black halo around her face.

She looked absolutely angelic.

But even as unthreatening as she appeared, I couldn't help but want to flee from the intimate room. It was too much. I could tell Sara that I was nauseous and that I needed to go home.

My plans were promptly squashed as Sara began strolling to the empty seat directly across from the girl. Without Sara, I couldn't get home.

I breifly considered faking a heart attack as a last ditch resort to escape, but figured Sara would simply let me die. She was entirely enthralled with Mary Alice.

Sara plopped into the chair and stared expectantly at the girl. "All right, let's start. Are you using Tarot cards, gems, a crystal ball, what are you doing?" She rattled off almost incomprehenisbly.

Mary Alice grinned. She held out her hand, palm up. "Give me your hand."

Sara immediately grasped the girl's small hand.

Mary Alice began running her long fingers along the back of Sara's hand, her face concentrated. Sara giggled and twitched. The girl looked up curiously, her black brow quirked.

"It tickles," Sara explained, smiling sheepishly.

Mary Alice nodded. "What would you like to know?" She asked quietly.

Sara's eyes widened. "Can you show me who I'm going to fall in love with?"

I rolled my eyes and stifled a sigh. Sara had always been on the hunt fot her other half since she was thirteen. She'd just always been that type of person who needed to be in a true, loving relationship. The poor boys she had dated had been most surprised to learn that she wasn't looking for a casual time. Sara wanted nothing more than to give her heart to someone and have that love returned forcefully.

It didn't need to be said that she hadn't found "the one" yet.

Mary Alice ran her hand along Sara's palm. "Oh, are you going to read the lines to tell me about him?" Sara asked excitedly.

The girl smiled. "No dear, I was just noticing how dry your hands are. Might I suggest Gold Bond lotion?"

I snickered and tired to smother it behind my sleeve when Sara turned to glare at me.

She turned back to Mary Alice. "Well then, what are you going to do?"

The girl smiled and patted Sara's palm before turning it back over and clasping it between both of hers. "I'm just going to . . . tell you."

She closed her eyes, and her face melted into something completely serene. Her gentle face remained unmoving for several minutes, to the point of making me nervous.

Sara turned back to me, her hand still in both of Mary Alice's. "Is she all right?" She whispered, her eyes flickering back to the girl.

"I don't know."

I took a few steps closer to them. Would she have another break-down? I was already anticipating her screams.

After a few more moments of strained silence, Mary Alice's eyes opened slowly, like rose petals unfolding in the morning dew. She focused on Sara's trepidatious face.

And said nothing.

"Well . . . ?" Sara prompted.

Mary Alice blinked. "Brown eyes," she said quietly. "Warm tanned skin, black hair. Tall."

Sara gasped and her free hand flew to her gaping mouth. Her eyes were the size of saucers. "What's his name?" She demanded.

Mary Alice smiled gently as she released Sara's hand. She placed her own under the table.

"I'm sorry, hun. It doesn't work like that. I can only see you together, not his specifics."

Sara visably deflated. She leaned towards the girl. "Well, can you at least tell me when we're going to meet? Where?"

I laughed at Sara's verbal diarrhea. I was positve Sara's rapid-fire questions would baffle just about anyone, so I was surprised when Mary Alice seemed unfazed.

"It will happen when and where it's supposed to happen."

Sara grumbled and looked down at the girl's lack of useful information.

"But I _can_ tell you that he is your other half," the girl said softly. "You'll be together the rest of your lives, happily."

Sara's head snapped up. "Really?"

Mary Alice nodded.

"I can't wait to tell him!" Sara nearly shrieked, and promptly lurched out of the chair and out the door, presumably to find Jasper.

I laughed and shook my head. "Sorry about that," I murmured as I fished in my pocket for the twenty dollars she required for her services. "Sara has always been over-the-top."

I pulled out the money and reached out to put it on her desk, and when I started to retreat, Mary Alice's small hand locked around mine.

I gasped and jerked in fright. Even as my mind slowed to near-nothing, I couldn't help but marvel at her strength. Though her fingers looked and _felt_ like silk stretched over glass, my hand could not pull itself from hers.

I built up the air to scream, and Mary Alice's eyes widened.

"No, no, please don't," she urged, her grip loosening but still not letting go. "I promise I'm not going to harm you."

I tugged again, though it did nothing. "What do you _want_, then?" I asked warily.

She smiled. "I just want to show you your future."

I pulled and twisted my hand in such a way that I could escape her grasp, though a nagging part of my brain told me that she had probably only _let_ me go.

I took a couple steps towards the opening. "No, thanks."

"Bella, please!" She pleaded, her voice wheedling.

I stopped and turned back to her.

Should I?

Her ocean blue eyes asked me to just _trust_ her.

On the one hand, she was possibly insane.

On the other, I might get some answers about the hospital.

_Oh, screw it_.

I sighed and walked back, taking the seat that Sara had previously occupied. Mary Alice smiled demurely and sat back down, and slowly held out her hand, palm up.

I placed my hand inside hers, palm to palm.

I didn't know what to expect. It wasn't like I visited psychics every other day.

"What would you like to know?" She asked softly, her eyes already closed.

I snorted. "Why don't you tell me about the next changes in the stock market?" I teased.

The girl said nothing, simply opened one eye with an air of admonishment in it. I blushed and looked down, feeling timid.

"Sorry," I murmured. She was obviously taking this seriously, while I was treating it like a crock of shit.

Even though it was. But still.

"Why don't you choose?" I sighed.

She didn't say anything.

It was odd being the one across from her as she "looked" for the future. I caught more of her nuances when I was in front of her, rather than across the room. Her brows furrowed as her nose wrinkled delicately. Her bottom lip poked out slightly.

The seconds ticked by sluggishly.

Painfully.

Finally, her eyes reopened, refocused on my face.

"So?" I asked quietly. "Did you see next weeks' lottery numbers?"

I couldn't resist.

Mary Alice didn't even justify that with a response. In fact, she remained silent. She just stared at me, much like she had when I approached her in the hospital.

Just stared. And stared. And _stared_.

I momentarily wondered about standing up and just leaving, thinking she might not even notice. But something about her expression kept me rooted in place.

As I stared at the lines in the table, her voice finally broke the silence.

"Edward."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, cliffie! I know you hate me. :D <span>BUT<span> I actually had to spilt this chapter in half because it would have been painfully long, so three-fourths of the next chapter is already written. Just a few tweaks and it will be out soon. (Yeah, like any of you believe me anymore anyway.) **

**And much duress, my friend made me get a LiveJournal account. So if you want to read about chapter updates and other random things, check out my painfully dull blog: www(dot)madisonhathaway(dot)livejournal(dot)com. Ignore the different name, you'll understand if you read my profile.**

**So new characters have been introduced. Are you happy about it? Pissed off? Unsurprised? Leave me a comment! :D**


	7. Finding Your Way

**Disclaimer: I am _not_ Stephenie Meyer, and I do not own Twilight nor am I recieving anything from making this story. All rights go to her. I'm simply playing with her creation. **

**A.N.: I want to give a big "thank you" to CassandraLowery, who has volunteered to be my beta. She's been the biggest help, and you all would shudder to see what this chapter looked like before she got her hands on it. Check out her stories, she's a complete genius! :)**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"Secret" - The Pierces.  
>"Stella" - Kashiwa Daisuke.<p>

* * *

><p>"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering if I had heard her correctly. Who was that?<p>

Mary Alice opened her mouth like she was going to answer, but she then closed it, her expression chagrined and . . . frustrated?

"That's all I got. Just a name," was all she said, dead-pan.

"Edward?" I repeated. The name was completely foreign to me.

She nodded.

"Are you going to tell me anything else?"

"I can't."

I swallowed a growl and pulled back my hand from hers, scrubbing my eyes angrily. I wasn't one for suspense or mystery. That crap pissed me off without doubt, and her cryptic remarks were grating on my nerves.

Alice saw my agitation played out on my face like a book, and she glanced down at her hands, now folded gracefully in her lap.

She picked at her nail. "I know it's strange right now, but you just have to believe me." She looked back up, her eyes begging me. For what?

"Mary Alice, I-"

"Oh please, that's my mother's name," she interrupted, waving the title off. "Just call me Alice."

"Alice," I said slowly, deliberately. "I'd appreciate if you'd explain, because I'm beginning to feel annoyed.

She nodded her head sadly, her face sympathetic. "I know, and I wish I could help, but for right now . . . my hands are just tied, all right? It's difficult to explain." She leaned forward and placed her folded hands on the table, her eyes clouded.

"But I can tell you one thing, and I need you to pay attention," her voice was dead serious.

I smirked and rocked the chair onto it's back legs, balancing there. "And what would that be? Don't forget to floss at night?"

"Bella, don't go near gardenias," she said unexpectedly.

I laughed, startled. "Why? I don't have an allergy to gardenias," assuming that's what she meant.

She shook her head. "When I was looking, I kept getting the picture of gardenias, and I sensed a malicious tone."

I really wanted to laugh in her face at that point. All the things had led to a stereotypical response from a psychic.

A vague romantic interest? Check.

An ominous warning? Check.

Completely bogus psychic?

_Double check_.

I rose from the chair, brushing my palms against my jeans. "This has been fun, but I should be going. Though I'll be sure to look out for the things you mentioned," I tacked on at the end.

_Not really, though_.

Alice's rose-bud mouth turned down into a fierce scowl at my patronizing tone. "Watch out for yourself, Bella." Her gaze was unwavering.

I couldn't contain myself any longer. I turned back, and her eyes were still on me. "Alice? Why . . . How did you know my name back in the hospital?"

She said nothing, just looked at me with a strange expression.

We were interrupted by a shrill voice.

"Bella! You'll never guess what he said!" Sara barreled into the room, breaking the intimate moment. She was towing a mortified-looking Jasper.

"He said my _future husband_ was a lie!"

Jasper rolled his eyes, but I could see a pink stain blossoming on his cheeks. "I didn't say it was a 'lie.', I just said that I didn't believe in that stuff," he drawled.

Sara muttered something low and crossed her arms. "Whatever. We'll see whose right when you walk me down the aisle to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

"I'll be sure to do . . . ," he trailed off. I looked over to him, and I realized, that to him, Sara and I weren't even in the room anymore.

His wide eyes were locked on Alice.

Swiveling back to her, I could see that she was equally affected by him.

The air was so thick with tension at that point that I could chew on it.

"Jasper," Alice whispered, nearly indiscernible.

I tried not to over-think it. It wasn't like when she had declared my name back at the hospital without warning. She'd just heard Sara call him by his name.

So why was she staring at him like she'd seen him before?

Jasper cleared his throat and stepped forward, extending his hand to Alice."Hello, Ma'am," he said, his accent making it seem like an introduction from the Old West.

"Do I . . . know you?" he asked.

Alice stared at his outstretched hand as if it were a poisonous snake. Jasper finally retracted his arm after a few uncomfortable seconds, looking both disappointed yet somehow relieved.

She merely shook her head at his question.

"Oh," Jasper said.

The silence that followed _that_ was the very definition of "awkward."

"Well, we should be going, yes?" Sara asked Jasper, who nodded. They shuffled out the door, but not without Jasper sneaking another curious peak at Alice, who was staring back at him stoically.

When they were out of sight, I thought about asking her again about the hospital. So many questions perched on the tip of my tongue. Why was she screaming like that? What were those trances like? How often did they happen?

Of course, I couldn't ask her such things. I didn't know this girl. Chances are,she'd throw me out or flip her lid on me.

I dug in my pocket again for another twenty. I held it out to Alice. "Is this enough?"

She still appeared dazed, but she shook it off and turned to me. Her head shook at my question.

I frowned. "Okay, how much more?"

Alice laughed once more before answering. "No, I meant to say that it was free - no charge."

I blinked, shocked. "Really?"

"Really."

I shrugged and stuffed the money back into my pocket.

"But I would like _one_ thing though, in return," she said hesitantly.

I think my mouth dropped a little in shock. My mind raced through all the things she could possibly want from me, and my over-active imagination wasn't thrilled with the possibilites.

I snapped my jaw shut and cleared my throat. "And what would that be?"

Alice moved forward and held her arms out. I stared at her warily, but made no move to stop her. Seeing my lack of refusal, she ever so slowly wrapped her delicate limbs around my shoulders.

I didn't know what to do. I was so stunned that I couldn't even manage to return the unexpected embrace.

She was murmuring something, and for a minute I thought she was going into another trance, and was possibly speaking in tongues.

I strained to hear what she was whispering. You can imagine my surprise when I realized she was saying a prayer.

I tried to listen, but I only picked up bits and pieces.

"Just follow her . . . watch, don't let her . . . I'm serious . . . _please_, Ed-"

A shrill laugh from a small child outside broke her ramblings, and I quickly pulled back.

She smiled as I retreated. "Take care of yourself, Isabella. I will see you soon."

I hoped not _too_ soon.

I walked in a daze through the crowd, not sure where I was headed, nor did I pay attention to the bustling, laughing people.

It was dark now, and the lights from the rides were reflecting off their young faces in an almost eerie way.

"Bella!" A voice shouted over the hum, and I turned to see Sara headed towards me, holding a much-abused Jasper. "Check out what Jasper won for me!" She hoisted the over-stuffed animal higher on her hip.

She thrusted it's furry mug in my face. "Isn't this a giant-ass panda?"

"That _is_ a giant-ass panda," I dead-panned.

"Jasper won it in a ring toss."

Jasper scoffed. "This wasn't exactly a first time, first win kind of thing," he said as he reached into his pockets, pulling them inside out. "I'm completely broke now because of that furry bastard."

Sara blew a kiss at him, mocking. "And I appreciate it very much, hun."

She walked next to me and linked her free arm in mine. "How'd your reading go? Did she point you in the direction of your true love, too?"

I snorted. "Yep. He's in Neverland. It's going to be a long-distance relationship."

She slapped my arm. "Can you two take anything seriously?

_You_ mock it," she pointed to me, then wheeled to Jasper. "And _you_ won't even let her read your future!"

"I just didn't want to," he muttered gruffly.

Sara looked like she wanted to continue prodding him about it, but I could tell something was off with him. I nudged Sara's shoulder softly when she began to open her mouth. The look on my face convinced her to drop it.

We walked on in silence.

We quietly moved through the crowd until a few drops of moisture fell on our skin. When we looked up, the sky chose then to start pouring. People shriek and scattered, their jackets held above their heads as they ran. Sara, Jasper, and I ducked under a tarp hanging over a food joint.

Sara groaned at the pouring rain. "Crap, I don't want to walk to the car in this," she whined. Her face lit up, and she turned to Jasper. "Jazz, here, hold my panda."

"Can I ask why?"

"Because,

_I'm_ going to go get the car and pull it up next to the side walk, so you guys don't get wet."

"Which really means you don't want your stuffed animal soaked."

She grinned. "Exactly. Now hold him!" She threw him into Jazz's arms, and took off towards the car. "I'll be just a moment!"

Jasper glared down at it's beady eyes. "Well, this makes me feel masculine."  
>I laughed.<p>

We both quieted, just staring off into the rain. The entire place was almost completely vacant now.

I leaned toward him. "Jasper?"

He lowered himself from his towering height. "Yes?"

I chewed on my lip before asking. "What happened with you and Alice?"

He pulled back, looking out into the distance. "I don't know. . . ."

"I just . . ." he raked his hand through his hair agitatedly. "I felt like I _knew_ her, _really_ knew her."

I tried not to think too much into that. "Why didn't you let her read your future?"

He didn't answer immediately, partly because Sara pulled up next to us, honking the horn and waving us in. He shook his head and walked almost robotically back to the car. After walking to the car and pushing the fuzzy prize into the backseat in silence, I had given up on his answering. But he stilled next to the open door, and looked at me.

His drawl interrupted the night. "I was scared to touch her," he admitted, sounding weak. "All I wanted was to flee, and yet I wanted to pull her into my arms and-"

"Okay, enough!" I broke in, not needing to be a witness to his strange wet-dream.

"I don't mean to do anything lewd," he grumbled, shaking his head, though I thought I saw a hint of a blush hiding under his five o'clock shadow.

His face softened. "I just wanted to shelter her, protect her."

"From what?" I couldn't help my curiousity.

"From everything."

That ended that conversation.

"Hey, Bells?" his voice broke the quiet after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"You seemed like you already knew Alice before today."

Shit, he could be so perceptive sometimes. How do I explain this one?

"I, uh, ran into her at the hospital last time I was there."

His blue eyes widened. "Really? Why was she there?" His voice carried a strong tone of worry. I couldn't tell him why she was there, could I?

_Absolutely not_, my mind hissed at me.

"She had the flu," I muttered, looking anywhere but him. Lying definitely wasn't one of my strengths, and I knew he'd see through me in a minute.

Looking back, he had a peculiar glint in his eyes, but I choose not to over-think it.

"Are you going to get in the damn car?" Sara yelled, half-hanging out of her window. "I know the rain is letting up, but you're all wet now!" Jasper and I grinned sheepishly at each other.

We all piled into Sara's little Honda, Jasper driving, me in the passenger seat, and Sara in the back seat, though not without much tenacity. But she hadn't been back there for more than ten minutes before she was cutting down a forest with her snores. Jasper snickered with me.

He pulled inside the parking lot of my building, Sara still fitfully sleeping in the back.

"Thanks for dropping me off, Jazz," I said in a hushed voice, collecting my jacket.

Jasper smiled. "No problem. Do you want me to walk you to your door?"

Always the Southern gentleman.

I opened the car door, and the arctic blast of air that greeted me woke me up from my dreary state. "No thank you, I'm fine. Just take care of Sleeping Beauty for me," I gestured back to Sara with a smile.

Jasper returned it. "I promise. Night, Bells."

"Night, Jazz."

I quickly exited the car, shutting the door softly, so as not to disturb Sara. She hadn't been sleeping well since I informed her about the stalker, her nerves keeping her up.

He waved, and I waved back, standing at the elevator and watched until the car disappeared. I looked through the darkening parking lot and quickly made my way into the elevator.

I danced in place while the buttons slowly lit up, saying that I was closer to my destination. I knew it was silly to feel so exposed, especially while in an empty elevator, but I still sighed in relief when the doors opened to reveal the lobby.

I hated riding in the elevator for claustrophobic reasons, so when the doors opened, I quickly darted out and made my way to the stairs leading up to the thirteenth floor. As I hurried by the front desk, an unexpected surprise had me slowing to a halt.

A boy was standing behind the check-in counter.

Where was Jane?

The boy looked vaguely familiar, though. I squinted my eyes. "Seth?" I called.

The young man in question jumped violently and dropped the contents he was holding in his arms. Books scattered and a small metal bell clattered to the ground, making me cringe .

It _was_ Seth. I smiled widely.

He groaned noisily. "Oh, Miss Swan, I'm sorry! I'll clean it up!" He dropped to all fours, scouring the floor for his items hastily, as if his accident had offended me.

"It's all right, Seth," I moved forward to help him clean up, but he waved me away. In the process of shooing me off, his arm flailed out and knocked over his cup of cocoa, spilling it over the desk and partially on my shirt.

"Oh, God, oh, God!" He rambled, and I swear beads of sweat began to pebble on his forehead. I laughed when he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and blushed scarlet at the obvious thought of pressing it to my torso. So instead of trying to clean my shirt, his hands just kind of fluttered around in panic. I laughed harder at the absurdity of it.

He wouldn't, - or possibly

_couldn't_ - stop his nervous fumbling. He was only making a bigger mess.

"Seth, relax!" I placed my hand on his forearm, and finally his frantic movements ceased.

"I'm so sorry - I'll buy you a new shirt, I swea-"

"Good grief, Seth, calm down! I'm _fine._ Just breathe."

He gulped down a breath, and his face slightly turned back to it's original color.

"I'm sorry, really."

"You're fine. I'm not mad."

Bending down to assist him with what he dropped, I asked, "What's wrong? What's got you so unsettled?"

He ran his hands through his short black hair. "I'm sorry, I'm just on edge, I guess."

"I noticed," I bit sarcastically, gesturing around us. He flushed tomato red. "Why?"

"Well, er, because of the _intruder_ the other night," he stammered.

"Ah."

So he was afraid of the psycho, too. Now my life was affecting everyone else's, too.

He quickly looked down. "Not that I was trying to down-play your nerves. I couldn't imagine what you're feeling right now. I'm sorry for making it about me." He looked so ashamed.

God, he was such a gentle, timid soul.

I bent down and caught his gaze, smiling softly. "It's okay, Seth, I'm not mad. And you have a right to be scared, just like anyone else."

"Thanks," he murmured.

I wondered how to broach the next subject. I decided to be straight-forward. "You're usually just the janitor around here," I said softly, "Why are you at the front desk?"

I realized that sounded terribly rude. "Not that you're not doing a great job," I added quickly, now my turn to blush in embarrassment.

Seth finally cracked his first smile. "I know what you meant. Jane has a couple of days off, and I'm filling in for her. They said if I do a good job, then when Jane gets moved to a different building, I can have this job permanently."

"Uh-huh," I hummed, realization coloring my tone. "That is another reason you're so stressed, isn't it."

He scratched his chin. "Well maybe . . . yeah." He looked down at his feet. "Though I've pretty much screwed up my chances."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up off my forehead. "What? Why?"

He looked at me incredulously and gestured to the pile of objects at our feet. "Need I say more? I suck."

I laughed. "I disagree, you've successfully made me forget my problems and made me laugh. So for that, I'm going to give you an 'A'."

He looked hopeful, though still wary. "You're really not going to tell my boss?" He asked slowly.

"Of course not!"

He grinned. "Why, thank you, madam," he said formally. "I'm indebted to you for life," and he swept into a low bow.

I chuckled again and punched him lightly in the shoulder. And promptly cried out in pain.

I pulled my bruised hand back to my chest, cradling it. "Shit, are you working out now? Your arm feels like stone!"

He laughed heartily through his nose. "Well, aren't you great for the ego?"

"No, I'm not," he continued, his grin still tugging at his lips. "And you need to go to bed before you harm yourself anymore tonight."

I gave him a crude hand gesture and trotted of good-naturedly towards the stairs.

"G'night, Bird-Bones," he called to me happily as I went up the first flight of stairs.

"Night."

I did admit, I pretty much sprinted up the stairs to my apartment, my eyes darting around every darkened corner. While there was people moving around and going to and from their rooms, it just felt sickeningly unsafe.

Once again on the thirteenth floor, my anxiety slowly ebbed. I could see the door to my home, and I started to breathe normally again.

Upon getting closer, I heard a rapid

_clicking_ sound coming from the other side of my door. I grinned and slowly twisted the key in the lock before tugging the door open. Emmett stopped attacking the wood and flew on top of me, covering me with slobbery licks.

"Emmett!" I laughed. He always made everything a little bit brighter.

"C'mon, get off, you're killing me here!" I pushed him off - which was quite a feat when he was excited like that - and walked into my home, locking the door heavily behind me.

I still didn't feel safe.

~)o(~

The shrill ring of cell phone woke me from my first near-decent sleep I'd had in a week. I blinked at the clock, and it was surprisingly six in the morning.

I groaned. So much for sleeping in.

The incessant ring had me throwing back the covers in irritation and lurching for the phone. I dug through my bag, fumbling in the darkness.

I finally found my phone and turned on my bedside lamp, momentarily blinding myself before my eyes adjusted, as I squinted at the little screen.

I didn't recognize the number.

I raked my tangled hair from my eyes and pressed the answer button. "Hello?" My voice was still garbled from sleep.

"Miss Swan?"

I didn't recognize the voice _at all_.

This was starting to feel like one of those idiotic horror movies. Except it wasn't so stupid when it was happening to you.

"Um, who is this?" My heart chilled at the thought that this could be the stalker.

"Miss Swan, this is Chief Clearwater. We spoke the other day."

The sweet relief flooded me, making me slouch back against the wall.

He continued to speak before I could. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early, ma'am."

I cleared the frog from my throat. "Oh, no, not at all. What can I do for you?"

_At this ungodly hour_, I added silently.

"I realize it's quite early for a Saturday morning for an outing, but I'm going to need you to come to the station as soon as possible."

"Why?" I exclaimed.

"It's the man who broke into your building. We have him."

.

~)o(~

.

The harsh light of the over-hanging lamps were giving me a head ache. The sharp pain made me irate.

"When will he be brought in?" I asked Chief Clearwater for possibly the sixteenth time in the last thirty minutes. And like the last fifteen, his response was, "Soon."

When I had got ten the call from Harry earlier that morning saying that they had the stalker, I had nearly flown out of the apartment, Emmet hot on my heels. At that time, I couldn't have left him at home. I needed support, and Emmett was always there to give it to me.

Chief Clearwater didn't exactly enjoy him very much, though. With a handkerchief pressed tight over his nose and mouth, he glared over his hand at the dog by my feet. It was easy to say that Clearwater was surprised to see my loyal companion by my side.

"You have a dog?" He said gruffly, his nose crinkling.

"Yes. Is it a problem bringing him here?"  
>"Not necessarily, but I'm allergic to dogs." He chose then to sneeze violently, making Emmett startle. Harry sent him a dirty look.<p>

"Great," he muttered, his eyes already beginning to water and redden. I had continued to feel relatively bad over Harry's discomfort throughout our stay there, and Emmett wasn't helping my guilt. I swear, whenever Emmett had the chance, he'd settle closer to Harry, making the poor man release an onslaught of sneezes.

Emmett didn't look the least bit bothered by it.

Between the rushing movement of people surrounding us and Harry's allergic reactions, I tried to squeeze more information out of him. My constant questions were much the same. How did they know they had the right guy? All we had to go on was a description from a woman who had seen him the night when he got into the apartment building. Her report was that it looked to be a middle-aged man. She had seen a tuft of mousy brown hair upon his head, barely seen under his hoodie.

Average weight and height.

Her description wasn't exactly anything too terribly helpful. No burn marks marring his skin. No distinguishing flaws like a missing eye or a hook for a hand.

Hey, it could happen.

So I was a bit skeptical that they had supposedly found the man. Harry had told me that an unidentified person had called the police when a man was seen lurking in a building close to my apartment complex. They had subdued him and brought him in. Since his unsavory behavior was so close to my proximity, and the man resembled the stalker's description, they had deemed him a lead suspect.

I just wanted to know why Harry had brought me down here to identify him. If it weren't for the woman's report, I wouldn't have the slightest inkling of what the man looked like.

How was I supposed to condemn him?

"You'd be surprised at how many people already know their stalkers," Harry had said in response, which had made me shudder violently. I had racked my brain, thinking about something, _s__omeone_ whom I knew who would do this. Sara? _Obviously_ _not_. Even if she hated my guts, that girl couldn't kill a fly even if she tried. Jasper? No. Mindy? No. Rosalie? No.

I ground my teeth together, the frustration tearing at my skin like hot pokers.

I jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up from my seat, and Harry smiled apologetically at me.

"Come with me," je said, making me rise from the chair and ushering me into a narrow hallway before nudging me into a equally small room. It was dark with a couple of chairs pushed against the walls, and a small desk in the middle.

Nothing special, except for one thing.

"Is that a two-way mirror?" I asked, my voice an octave high in my surprise as I motioned toward the opaque window-like portion of the wall. I had only ever seen them in movies or televison shows.

"Yes," he murmured, moving to stand in front of it, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door. He stared at me expectantly.

"Is he in there?" I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the mirror, my eyes closed.

"Yes."

I sighed, steeling myself before walking in front of the window, my eyes on my feet, Emmett held dutifully at my side.

I dragged my gaze from the floor, along the wall, crack by crack, before settling on the glass, my eyes trained now on the scene before me.

The first thing my eyes encountered was a man in a sleek white button-down shirt, sitting firmly in a wheelchair, his eyes on the papers in his lap.

I looked up at Harry, shock coloring my face.

He sighed, looking at the weathered man. "Don't be fooled, Miss," his gravely voice rang out, "That's Billy Black, one of our best men in the field. There's not one person he hasn't been able to crack. He's our most brilliant interrogator."

I felt so rude asking, but I couldn't hold back my question. "What happened to him?"

His mouth twisted down into a harsh scowl. "He used to be on patrol, giving out traffic tickets, responding to calls about break-ins, murderings, the usual." Harry grumbled, his voice holding it's first note of dry humor that I'd ever heard.

That humor dissipated quickly. "He was just on his normal routine. He had stopped a vehicle for speeding and for not having a license plate. But when Billy asked for his license and registration, the man pulled out a gun."

Harry swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically. "Didn't kill him, but the bullet shattered his spine. Paralyzed him from the ribs down. But the crazy bastard loved his job so much, that he couldn't give it up. So he became an interrogator."

"Why did the driver shoot him?" I asked, my voice hushed.

Harry growled. "For drug possession. Instead of just facing the law and the penalties for it, he decided to nearly take away a man's life. For something so stupid! Billy can't walk anymore because of that son of a-" he broke off, his lips mashing together into a tin y line.

He looked down at me. "I'm sorry, Miss. Billy has just always been one of my close friends, and it hurts to see him like this."

I shuffled my feet under his intense gaze. I didn't know where to look, what to do. "I can understand that. You don't need to apologize."

"It doesn't need to be said that the man who nearly killed Billy is going to be locked away for a long, l_ong_ time."

"Wow." I didn't know what else to say to such a story.

Harry grunted, ending the tough conversation.

As I looked back into the brightly-lit room, Billy seemed the perfect picture of calm.  
>The man across from him was anything but.<p>

He twitched and fidgeted, scratching his arm and dart his eyes around the room. Next he bounced his foot, chewed his nail.

He had the light brown hair as described. Flat, black eyes, bottle-cap glasses shadowing them. Nothing special, completely average in every way possible.

And I didn't know him.

I had been praying for someone I recognized, even if it meant someone I thought I knew and loved, but I didn't know him. At once, I was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved, because it wasn't someone I cared about. Disappointed, because the creep was still loose for all I knew.

Harry was looking at me expectantly, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

I shook my head, and he threw his hand up in exasperation and cursed.

He rubbed his eyes before punching a button next to the two-way mirror, and I could finally hear what they were saying.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I swear, this is just a huge mistake!" The dark haired man pleaded, his forehead drenched in sweat.

Billy somehow knew we were listening and began asking questions. His pen scratched across his notepad.

"Let's start again. Why were you lurking in the building?" he requested calmly.

The man across from him was anything but calm. "Lurk-?" The man choked, his eyes bugging slightly. "I'm not some gutter rat!"

I flinched from the venom in his tone. Emmett rubbed his head against my hand, reassuring me.

Billy's calm voice iced. "Restrain yourself,"

The man pressed his hands to the sides of his head, breathing harshly as his eyes darted around the room. He took a few more calming breaths before speaking again.

"I was looking for my girlfriend," he said slowly, almost like he wasn't trusting his voice.

Billy raised his eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

"We had gotten into an . . . argument a couple of weeks ago, and she locked me out of my apartment. Yesterday I had finally decided enough was enough, and I went back to go home. But my girlfriend had changed the locks on the door! So I was 'loitering' because I was waiting for her to come home so we could talk."

Billy remained stoic, but I could see from the slight twitch of his mouth that he was skeptical. "And you don't think that it's suspicious that you were exhibiting strange behavior close to the home of a young woman who is being pursued by a man with your nearly e_xact_ physical description?"

The man blanched three shades. "I, well, I can see - yes, that is suspicious, but - but, I -" he spluttered as he tried to force his words out, tumbling over themselves. It was almost comical.

He took a deep breath, cutting off his ramble. He exhaled and looked Billy in the eye. "I know it seems strange, and I would be skeptical too if the situation was reversed. But I _swear_ to you, _on my father's life_ that I was just waiting for my girlfriend."

Billy shifted in his wheelchair. "So you wouldn't mind if we talked to her to confirm your alibi, then?"

The man nodded eagerly. "I wouldn't mind at all. And could you tell her that I'm sorry for the argument when you talk to her?"

"Mmhmm," I could tell from Billy's distant tone that he would do no such thing.

The man leaned forward over the desk, his eyes pleading. "Look, I'm sorry that this girl is having problems, but you've got the wrong guy. I've never even _seen_ the damn girl before, I promise."

The man suddenly shifted his gaze to the two-way mirror. His eyes weren't focused on me, though, obviously. They just flickered over the reflective glass, me hidden safely behind it.

He shocked me thoroughly though, when he addressed me. "Ma'am?" He called, and I stiffened like a board.

I glanced at Harry's leathery face in terror, and he smiled reassuringly. Emmett licked my palm, bumping his cold nose into my hip, and telling me in his own way that it would be all right.

The man continued after a gut-wrenching pause. "I'm sorry, really I am, but it's not me. You have to understand that."

I groaned and looked back to Harry. I cleared my throat of the bullfrog in it and said, "I don't think he did it."

Harry sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. "I think you're right," he admitted.

"What do we do now?" I whispered, terrified of the unknown.

"We keep looking."

_Why, thank you, Captain Obvious._

"But at this very moment, I need you and your . . . ," he glared down at Emmett and started sneezing viciously.

" . . . Beast to go home," he finished, letting out a particularly loud sneeze.

Emmett huffed almost indignantly at the derogatory remark.

I patted the top of his head.

"I'd say you're right." If he was surprised by my out-of-character agreement, he didn't show it.

While I debated going home now or staying here where I felt relatively safe, the door opened, revealing a disgruntled man in a wheelchair. I jumped out of his way, then instantly felt bad. People in wheelchairs hated when you treated them differently, right? Should I have stayed put? Should I have ignored him?

While my mental babble hit an all-time high, Billy's face stretched into a crinkly smile. "I know what you're doing," he said easily, folding his hands on his lap.

"And what would that be?"

"You're feeling guilty over my legs."

"And will you be adding 'psychic' to your resume, too?"

"No, it's just written all over your face."

I blushed furiously and looked down at Emmett, who had slunk back behind my legs when Billy had appeared.

Billy noticed the massive ball of golden hair quivering behind me, and leaned forward, holding his hand out and whistled. "C'mere, boy," he cajoled Emmett, who merely let out a low growl in warning.

Billy frowned and pulled back his hand. "Special dog you got there, Ma'am."

"He's just not very social. Bad experience when he was a pup."

Billy smiled sadly and shrugged.

"Look, can we get back to important things?" Harry demanded, his voice hard and serious. He stared Billy in the eyes with intense emotion that I couldn't place. "What do you think about him? Got any feelings?"

Billy shook his head and glared down at his notes. "No. From his physical reactions, it was only what was to be expected from a nervous man. Nothing too over-the-top, but not so subdued either, like he's been used to being interrogated," he sighed heavily. "If I had to guess, I'd say that he really _is_ telling the truth."

"Should we run his record?"

"I already did. It's completely clean, save for a parking ticket."

Harry cussed low under his breath and stomped off to the other side of the room, staring murderously at a crack in the paint-job on the wall. "Now we're back to square one."

I barked out a bitter laugh. Billy smiled gently and held out his hand. I stared at it for a moment before hesitantly placing my hand in his. His other hand came up to rest on both of ours, giving me a small squeeze.

"It'll be all right, dear. We'll get him."

I was surprised at his comforting gesture, and my eyes welled up at his kindness. I swiped at them miserably, a small smile forcing it's way out despite my trembling chin.

"Thank you," I murmured quietly. I suddenly felt compelled to return a kind gesture. I shuffled my feet in embarrassment. "Um, can I hug you?"

He looked a little taken back at my request, but quickly recovered. He held out his arms and smiled. I stooped low and wrapped my arms around his neck while his went around my shoulders.

"Thank you for looking out for me," I whispered against his skin. I looked back to Harry, who was watching us with an amused expression. "And you too, Chief Clearwater."

His skin reddened slightly, and he grumbled out something that sounded like Yiddish.

Billy patted my shoulder, still holding me. "That's our job, kid. I couldn't sleep at night if we didn't."

"Thank you anyways."

"No problem." Billy shifted then, indicating a feeling of discomfort.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He laughed. "I think you're vibrating, dear."

Well, I wasn't expecting that. Oh . . . my phone was ringing. I snorted and pulled back from the embrace before pulling my phone out of my front pocket, holding it up for Billy's curious inspection.

I looked at the caller ID, and it was Rosalie.

I started pushing it back into my pocket, and Billy frowned. "Aren't you going to answer that? It might be important."

"Nah, it's just my 'Happy Doctor' telling me that I need to see her; I'm sure of it. She can leave a message."

"If you say so."

I nodded and slapped my thigh with my hand, and Emmett rose instantly from the ground and trotted over to me. Harry glared as he passed him.

I rubbed Em's nose and spoke quietly. "We'll be going now. Thank you again for trying," I held my hand out to Billy, who grasped it gently and shook.

"Don't worry. You'll be all right, Ma'am," Billy's rumbly voice rolled like a summer's thunder. "You've got someone watching over you."

It took everything I had not to groan.

I pressed my lips tightly together to hold back said groan, and nodded. "Come on, Em." I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, wavingat both men before closing it. Harry and Billy waved back, worried smiles glued to their faces. My stomach balled up a little.

Walking out to the front of the building, I could see rain falling heavily through the windows. This time I didn't try to hold back my groan. Emmett had always been a big baby when it came to excessive amounts of rain. A little drizzle he could handle, but a torrential down pour like this meant he wasn't going anywhere. As if to prove me correct, he sat back down on his haunches and looked at me from the corner of his eye.

The look clearly said that he wasn't moving. I heaved another groan.

So we stood in the lobby and waited for the rain to let up a little. I decided to listen to Rosalie's voice mail and then choose to return her call or not.

Scouring my pocket for my phone, I pulled it out and pressed the play-back button for her message. Her crystalline voice rang through my crappy phone's speaker.

_"Isabella, I'm sorry for not alerting you sooner, but I'm going to need to cancel our next session_," my eyebrows shot up high at that. She never broke our sessions. "_One of my patients has had a nervous break-down, and I bumped up our session to tomorrow. Yours' will be replacing his on Thursday. Some-how I know you'll survive this disappointment,_" she said with the first bit of sarcasm I'd ever heard in her professional voice.

_"I'll see you Thursday in Joe's spot. Call me if you need to talk._"

The beep signaled the end of her message, followed by the automated female voice declaring that there were no new messages.

I wasn't really listening at that point.

I didn't really pay attention when a person walking by told me that I had dropped my phone.

I didn't care.

A memory assaulted my mind, leaving me speechless.

I was almost out into the lobby when I heard Rosalie speak from behind me. "Jo e, I'm ready for you now."

_A small man glanced at her with twitchy eyes, his legs drawn up to his chest as he rocked back and forth on his little chair. He nodded hesitantly at Rosalie's words and stood up, walking towards her, glancing at me every so often out of the corners of his eyes. His nervousness was written all over his face. _

He hadn't stuck with me when I'd seen him. He'd just been another person who's cheese had slid off their cracker. But oh, how I wished I'd paid attention then.

To the way he'd watched me.

To the way he'd walked by me, staring me down.

To his twitchy demeanor.

It was Joe.

"He's the stalker," I choked.

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><p><strong>I love ending chapters like that. Your reactions are priceless. :'D <strong>

**So, on October 17th, I turned sixteen. (I can hear my mother sobbing in the other room. :D) Can you all give me a late birthday present and leave me a review? I have no problem begging! **


	8. Breaking Point

**A.N.: *Taps on computer screen* Um, hello? Is anyone still there? Good grief, how long has it been since an update? Over a month? Unacceptable. Sorry guys. Here's the next chapter, if anyone hasn't given up on this story and is still reading. Love to you all. **

**As always, much love to the best beta in the world, CassandraLowery. If some of you are from Wattpad, too, than you definitely know who she is. If not, please check her stuff out, she is simply amazing.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not, under any circumstances, claiming any right to Twilight. All of it goes to the wonderous Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"So Sick" - Flyleaf.  
>"Bad Karma" - Ida Maria.<p>

* * *

><p>"Rosalie! Open the goddamn door!"<p>

I had been screaming on the outside of Rosalie's office for a little over twenty minutes while Rosalie and her secretary blocked me from entering.

"Isabella, stop!" Rosalie's panicked voice tried to cut into my half-delirious mind, her hands pushing against my shoulders. Leah, a beautiful Indian girl with russet skin and pitch-black hair was Rosalie's new secretary and had the unfortunate initiation to the job by holding back a blood-thirsty maniac such as myself from the _true_ villain hiding just inside that door.

I thrashed harder against their hands, the inside of that room my only target. The _person_ inside it.

"It's _him_, Rosalie!" I screamed, trying again to reason with her. "He's in there! Let me have him!"

"No, Isabella! Please, you're not thinking clearly! Leah, pull harder!" Leah wasn't an overtly strong-looking person, but she _did_ have some muscle definition. So having her _and_ Rosalie have to restrain me and still not being able to pull me back from the door completely boosted my fragile ego. Maybe I wasn't so weak after. Maybe I could even kill the bastard in the other room with my bare hands if I had enough adrenaline.

I ripped Leah's hand from the back of my shirt while simultaneously trying to push against Rosalie, edging us all a little bit closer to the door.

"I've never seen things clearer," I snarled. "Now let me through!"

With a startling burst of energy, I flung off their restricting arms and bolted the few short feet to the ever elusive door, forcing my way into the room.

With a quick scan of the place, I found my target cowering in the corner behind the big leather chair I had sat in many times.

I saw red.

I _lunged_.

His blood-curdling scream echoed off the arched ceiling when my hands made contact with his shirt. Tightening my grasp on the cloth, I ripped him to me, my nose nearly brushing his.

"Isabella, for God's sake, _please_!" Rosalie shrieked, and jerked hard on my shoulder. It did nothing.

"You sick _fuck_! I'll kill you! _What do you want with me_?" I screamed so hard I could feel blood vessels burst in my eyes. The man wailed even louder than me, and I shook him until his head snapped back and forth like a rag doll. With one hand still wrapped firmly in his shirt, I reared the other back before letting it snap forward, connecting it beautifully with the psycho's nose.

It made an almost symphonic _crunch_ to my ears.

Blood trickled from his nostrils, running into his open, screaming mouth, staining his crooked teeth. It was like a faucet spewing down over his jaw and neck, even coating my hand still grasping his shirt.

I struck him again, this time hitting his cheek-bone. That one actually probably hurt me more than him, but I ignored the pain beginning to blossom in my knuckles.

Rosalie's arms encircled my waist while Leah's went around my shoulders, and with one sharp synchronized tug, they jerked me away from the bloodied stalker, his hands shooting up to his face to cover his nose. He doubled over, pressing his face into the wooden floor, no doubt to protect himself from another attack from me.

I thrashed against their hold as they practically carried me back out the door, the very definition of "kicking and screaming."

I couldn't feel anything in that moment but rage. Searing, burning, blistering _hate_ saturated every cell inside of me. I hated this pathetic, crazy freak for everything. For making me feel insecure. Unsafe. Weak. Fragile.

I think at some point, I even blamed him for my parents' deaths.

_Insanity. _

Although all I was seeing was red, the sudden appearance of soft rose-colored tile disoriented me almost completely, pulling me out of my mania. It took my racing mind a moment to realize that I was in Rosalie's office bathroom. I had only been in here a few times, mostly to take refuge from the terror of my past.

A resounding _click_ moved through the small room, and I knew Rosalie had locked us in. I started pacing from one short wall to the other, my hands pressed to the sides of my head.

Rosalie's desperate voice tickled at the edges of my sanity. "Isabella, you're losing it. It hurts me to say this, but if you don't get a hold of yourself, I _will_ be forced to call the police."

Through my delirium, I choked a strangled laugh.

Me? Getting arrested? When the _real_ criminal was just in the other room?

The humor was _painful_.

I started making hiccuping, hysterical laughs. I couldn't control them. They bubbled up my tight throat, spewed from my lips and bounced off the walls, reverberating through the tiled room.

Rosalie gazed deeply at me. "Isabella, what's gotten into you?" It was the first time I ever saw fear in her lapis-blue eyes. It made me laugh harder.

"Bella, for God's sake!" She exclaimed, and slapped me hard across my face, the sharp crack of skin against skin electric.

My manic laughs finally died. I raised my hand to my cheek, touching it momentarily before pulling it back and staring at my palm as if I could see the physical evidence of her strike on my hand.

She breathed heavily. "I'm sorry," she said, placing her hands on my shoulders, holding tight. "But you need to _snap out of it_. At this rate, I'm going to have to put you in a straight-jacket."

"Me? _Me_?" I exploded. I jerked away from her hands, staggering to the other side of the small room. "That freak that you're hiding in there is stalking me! And _I'm_ crazy?"

I ripped my hands through my hair, pacing in a small circle. The bathroom was too tiny, too tight. Was it hot in there? I was on fire.

The soft clicking of Rosalie's heels made me look up from the grout on the wall. She was approaching me slowly, her hands raised and a saddened expression painted her gorgeous face.

"Oh, Isabella. It's not Joe. He hasn't done anything to you."

"How can you say that?" I cried.

"Because he has the mental capacity of a five-year-old."

I blinked at her. _Come again?_

She saw my blank stare and quickly explained, her own face relaxing fractionally. "Joe has a severe case of autism. It's prevented him from learning, growing, getting a regular job, everything. He lives in his grandmother's home. That's how he gets _here_. She drives him."

No. She had to be lying. I heard my denial echoing off the tiled walls as I paced again.

If Joe wasn't him, then I was back at square one. I couldn't be there again. Joe was the stalker.

Rosalie's eyes followed me, her hands still raised in nervousness. "You need to calm down, or I _will_ be forced to call the police," her voice turned wheedling, "Please, Isabella. Don't make me do that."

"No!" I screamed, making her jump. "If it's not _him_," my arm swung out to point at the closed door and the creature lurking behind it, "then who is it, Rosalie?"

She said nothing.

"_Who_?"

"I don't know," she said slowly, carefully approaching me again. "But the police will find him. In the meantime, you can't go around clocking everyone you think could be a suspect. Now, take a deep breath."

I did as asked, sucking in what felt like half the room's supply of air. It did alleviate some of the pounding in my ears.

Three quick raps sounded on the door. Rosalie opened it, and in popped Leah's timid face. "Dr. Cullen is here as you requested, Dr. Hale."

"Thank you, Leah, send him in."

Leah shot me a wary look, as if I might attack _her_ at any given moment. I was tempted to jump at her, just to see if she would flinch.

I shook my head at my ridiculous thoughts. Since when was I such a bully? I looked at the beautiful Indian girl, who was obviously terrified of me. I felt compelled to apologize for my frightening behavior, but she ducked back out of the room before I could utter a word.

Carlisle's familiar form was suddenly in front of me, and I buried my face in his pea-coat without a thought. His strong arms wrapped around my back, pulling me close.

I wanted to laugh at the bizarre turn of events that lead to Carlisle, old fashioned, prudish, gentlemanly _Carlisle_ into a female's bathroom. But I just couldn't find the humor in that moment.

I gasped and tears leaked from my eyes, collecting on Carlisle's Oxford shirt. He rubbed my back soothingly, humming gentle words.

He spoke over my head to Rosalie. "Could you please explain what happened? All I got was a frantic message from your secretary, and I rushed over."

"I apologize for that," Rosalie said mournfully. "But I needed you to arrive as fast as possible. For obvious reasons."

Carlisle didn't say anything, but I felt a sharp point nudge the top of my head...Carlisle nodding. He drew back from me slightly, his palms running up to the tops pf my arms, staring into my face. He pulled out a small flash light from his coat pocket. Before I could ask, he turned it on and shined it in my eyes.

I blinked against the spot light, leaning away slightly. "Carlisle, stop," I protested.

He ignored my grumbles. "Are you feeling any dizziness? Nausea? Perhaps a headache?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I'm checking your bodily signs for distress after your anxiety attack."

"Anxiety? I didn't panic," I muttered, confused.

He barely glanced at me for my words.

Once he knew I was physically all right, his concern melted, revealing a deep anger. "You want to tell me why you brutally assaulted that man in there?"

My throat closed tight in fury of the memory. My voice came out in a seething hiss. "You are _not_ defending him!"

Carlisle dropped his hands from me. "What do you want me to say, Isabella? He's _innocent_!"

"NO!" I shouted a him and started pacing again. _No. Not Carlisle, too._ If he didn't believe me, than no one would.

Carlisle watched my caged pacing with old eyes, following me silently. He shook his head sadly and turned for the door.

"I need to tend to him."  
>His words halted my rash movements. "No! You can't!" I yelled.<p>

Carlisle surprised me with the anger that blazed in his blue eyes. He rounded on me. "What do you want me to do, Isabella? You've shattered his nose! You bludgeoned him! You've tied my hands here, Isabella!"

I had never heard Carlisle shout like that before. I had never heard him yell before, period. It shushed my childish words, drying them in my mouth. I felt the salty tears trickle down my cheeks.

Carlisle saw the little drops of moisture and let out a shuddering breath. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He turned without another word and pried the door open, almost letting it slam shut behind him, but closed it gently at the last moment.

Rosalie said nothing throughout the ordeal, and continued her silence as I stared blankly at the door through which Carlisle had just stormed. She motioned quietly to the door, asking if we should follow him. I moved almost robotically to the exit, not even glancing at Rosalie as I passed her.

I sat and watched as Carlisle worked over the man-child. I used such a term for the things I learned as I watched. Joe looked at Carlisle's beauty in wonder, much like I had when first meeting him. He smiled widely when Carlisle spoke to him. And he clapped his hands and giggled when Carlisle wiped the blood from his face delicately.

The man didn't appear to be dangerous. His gaze–when not trained on Carlisle–wandered around the room, settling on the dust motes swirling around in the air, his face blossoming in joy.

He didn't even really pay attention to me. Unless I made a sudden shifting movement, to which his eyes would snap to me and he would tense miserably, he didn't pay me any attention at all.

His eyes would just wander.

He didn't speak well, either. When Carlisle asked him his name politely, the man announced, "Joe," in a sluggish, boyish voice.

The door to Rosalie's office suddenly swung open, banging against the wall loudly. At the entrance stood an elderly woman, her hair silvery and shiny. Leah stood behind her, her face worried. Her timid voice said, "Dr. Hale, Joe's grandmother is here."

I think we all could have figured that out on our own. The woman was in motion before Leah even spoke, darting across the room to where Joe and Carlisle sat on the floor.

"Oh, my dear!" The woman cried, her crinkled hands fluttering up to cup Joe's face. Her thumbs swiped at the the remaining dried blood on his cheeks. "What _happened_ to you?"

I shifted in my seat, suddenly very, _very_ uncomfortable. _What, I could beat a man to an inch of his life, but I couldn't face his grandmother?_

I opened my mouth to confess, but Rosalie beat me to the punch.

"He tripped walking in here, and busted his nose on the edge of the table," she lied smoothly, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather.

My head swiveled in her direction, my eyebrows high on my head. Rosalie didn't acknowledge my incredulous stare and continued. "When I thought he broke his nose, I called Dr. Cullen here," she gestured to where he sat, looking equally uncomfortable, "and he came and fixed him up. Free of charge, of course."

The motherly woman nodded her head gratefully. "Thank you for taking care of Joe."

I choked on my derisive laugh.

Rosalie shot me a baleful glare, one the woman didn't catch. "Not a problem, I just hate that he was hurt here. I think you should be taking him home, though."

Rosalie would have said anything in that moment to get him away from me.

"Yes, you're right," the grandmother said, and she held out her fragile looking hands to Joe. "Come, Joey, we must be going. I've made you spaghetti for dinner," she said in a sweet tone, beaming at him. Joe's face lit up at her words, and he grabbed her hands to haul himself up. He tottered dubiously upon standing, and for a moment I thought he would fall. But he steadied himself and leaned on his family member, and walked to the door.

He looked at me as he passed, and when he met my gaze, he stopped.

We all watched him cautiously as he leaned in towards me. "You sad," he said in a drawling tone. "I know you sad. I see it."

He reached out his hand and touched his finger to my nose, pressing gently.

"I forgive you."

His softly- spoken—albeit slurred—words floored me. I gaped wordlessly at the man who had given me atonement for a crime I suddenly felt bad for. As I looked into his eyes, I saw a gentle person hiding behind them.

I knew in that moment he wasn't the stalker.

My eyes instantly filled with tears at the revelation that I had just beaten this man for a crime he knew nothing of.

"Let's go, Joe," his grandmother prodded gently, pulling him along. He sent me one more gentle smile before following her, disappearing out of sight.

The moment they were out of sight, a violent sob ripped from me. Carlisle sighed and stood from his crouching position, groaning slightly and working out the kinks in his lower back. He walked the short space to me, and for the second time that day, drew me to his chest while he brushed his fingers through my hair.

I couldn't help but wonder why he was treating me so kindly when I had been downright _vicious_ today.

I buried my nose in the lapels of his coat, inhaling his familiar and comforting scent. In my safe place, I confessed.

"It's not him. Oh, god, Carlisle, it's not him." I sobbed harder.

Carlisle tried to pull back to see my face, but I kept it hidden obstinately against his chest. "What do you mean?"

"Joe! The man I almost killed! The man I _would_ have killed if you all didn't pull me off of him!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rosalie shudder delicately in response.

I babbled on. "He – he's nothing but a child! An _infant_, really! And I – oh god, I -"

"Isabella, stop." Carlisle placed his hands on the tops of my arms and pulled me back so we were face-to-face. "You've made a mistake."

Through my tears I barked a hateful laugh. A mistake? No. A mistake was when you stepped on someone's toes. A mistake was when you asked a woman when her baby was due, only to find out that she wasn't pregnant.

I had hurt an innocent.

Carlisle shook me slightly, snapping my attention back to him. "It was a mistake. A terrible one, but a mistake. You _learn_ from them, Isabella. You have to."

I threw my hands up. "What am I supposed to learn from this?" I cried. "'Don't go running around attacking people'? That's really shitty, Carlisle."

Carlisle dropped his hands from me, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut. He breathed in deeply through his nose for a few minutes but exhaling heavily and turning to Rosalie.

"Dr. Hale, I'm going to assume that today Bella doesn't have an appointment."

Rosalie shook her head.

"Then I'm going to request that I take Isabella home. Maybe if she's out of this atmosphere, she'll feel better." He didn't sound convincing.

Rosalie nodded in agreement anyway. "Yes, I think so, too. Please, take her."

For once, Rosalie didn't have reassuring words for me. It almost disturbed me more than my violent acts.

Though as I finally looked, really _looked_ around the office, I saw for the first time the damage I had really caused. The chair I always sat in was on its side. The small coffee table in the middle of the room was completely flipped over. Blood spots dotted the floor.

I shuddered violently as Carlisle lead me out the door.

He said nothing as we walked through the hallway. Anger rolled off him in waves.

"Where are we going?"

Carlisle didn't look my way. "Where do you think? I just said I was taking you home. You figure it out."

Oh, ouch. Carlisle was _very_ mad. It was rare for him to ever lose his calm. I didn't know what to do. I just decided to keep my mouth shut as long as his mood lasted.

And it could last for a _while_, apparently. Through the last of the hallway, into the elevator and the uncomfortable ride down, he remained painfully stoic. Even as we exited the building and made our way through the swirling snow that was beginning to fall to his car, he wouldn't even glance at me.

I thought about plucking up the courage to say something to him in this mood, but we reached his car then. Opening the passenger side door for me, Carlisle waited and stared at his shoes.

I wanted to laugh. So, he could be murderously furious, and yet still be a gentleman?

Instead I said nothing, simply slipped into the car and onto the warm leather seat. Carlisle slammed the door a bit harder than necessary behind me.

I could feel my heart beating painfully as he stabbed the key into the ignition and took off out of the parking lot. I had to say something. His silence spoke levels of disappointment that not even screaming could have achieved.

My mouth curled into a tight, quivering line. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry."

I sounded scratchy, broken.

Carlisle's icy demeanor melted a little. He sighed heavily and sagged back against the headrest. "I know you are, Isabella. But 'sorry' doesn't let you off."

I swallowed hard and looked out the already-frosting window. "I know," I whimpered.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to learn from this, Bella."

"I don't know what I _can_ get from this. I'm just . . . I'm numb."

Carlisle didn't say anything after that, though I could tell he wanted to. His hands tightened painfully on the steering wheel, and I swore I heard his teeth grind together.

I glared again out the passenger window. I noted the soon-to-be heavily falling snow with distaste. I hated snow. It always melted in my shoes and got my socks wet. I hated wet feet. I hated the way Carlisle drove, like an old man.

I realized, with a silent laugh, that I hated everything in that moment. Not one thing could be spared from my hatred, not even my friends, or adorable puppies.

What was I turning into?

I didn't know, but I was pretty sure I hated that, too.

The silence stretched on until we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked up it in a daze, not even realizing we had arrived. Weren't we still supposed to be on the road with Carlisle's grandpa driving?

I unbuckled my seat-belt without looking in Carlisle's direction, and cracked open the door. Before I could step out, a hand wrapped around my arm.

I turned, and met a pair of boiling blue eyes. "I-I don't even know what to say at the moment."

I opened my mouth to apologize again, but he cut me off. "I'm actually feeling good about you beating someone up."

My shock and confusion must have played across my face like a bill board, so he shook his head and continued.

"Not in the way you're thinking. I hate to see anyone hurt – you know that," I nodded mutely. "But the fire I saw in your eyes, the passion there . . . I haven't seen that in _so_ long, Isabella." His voice was painfully wistful.

His saddened face hardened. "So now I'm battling between the joy of you showing some kind of emotion, and the remorse that that joy came from nearly killing someone."

I couldn't find my voice. Did I even possess one anymore?

Carlisle released my arm, and sighed as he leaned away from me. "Go inside, Bella, and lock your doors. Protect yourself. Be safe. Please," he nearly begged.

I took that as my permission to leave. I nodded my head once more at his request and nearly fled from the car. Standing a few yards from the car, Carlisle waved to me and drove off.

I watched until his car was out of sight, biting back the tears until I was sure he was gone.

.

~)o(~

.

"Ah! Dude, stop!"

Startled shrieks and angry yelps had me racing into the lobby. Rounding the corner, I saw Emmett straining against his collar which was attached to an equally strained leash. On the other end of the taut leather was a nervous Seth. Even with his newly-found muscles, he couldn't completely still Emmett's trembling form.

"Seth? What are you doing? Why is Em out here?"

His head snapped up at my voice. A dozen emotions played out over his young face before he settled on annoyed. "There you are! Please, for the love of _God_, will you restrain your dog?"

I didn't respond, merely raced forward to pull the leash from his grasp. Emmett had slightly stilled upon seeing me, but just barely. His angry and anxious jolts twisted and curled his body around itself. I instantly recognized his ferocious ways for what they really were.

Emmett sometimes resorted back to his frightened ways when separated from me. Unruly and loud, he could continue on this way for hours if I didn't intervene.

The telephone perched on top of the front desk shrieked, making all of us–even Emmett–jump.

Seth groaned and slapped his palm to his forehead. "That has to Mrs. Denali. She's been complaining non-stop since he started," he stabbed a finger at Emmett.

"So I had to use the staff's key to get into your apartment and haul him out. Sorry," he added quickly, as if that would erase the potential sting of him invading my personal space.

I shrugged it off. "S'okay, Seth."

It wasn't his fault that Emmett could be certifiably insane at times.

Seth puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "How does Jane even do it?" He muttered, mostly to himself.

Even as I struggled to keep Emmett under wraps, I couldn't help but grin at Seth's discomfort.

"Is that defeat I hear in your tone, Seth?" I teased. His despondent expression lifted, revealing a slight happiness.

"At the moment, yeah," he grumbled. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "If Tanya Denali calls the front desk _one more time_ . . .." His dark voice trailed off, the threat disappearing.

I couldn't blame his ire. Mrs. Denali wasn't a particularly pleasant woman even in the best of moods. I could only imagine the irritation she could inflict when upset.

That woman could make a nun spit.

Almost as if in response, the telephone rung shrilly on the desk, making Emmett emit a particularly loud howl.

Seth flinched and groaned before storming over and snatching up the phone. He promptly pulled the receiver away from his ear, holding it at arm's length. The string of high-pitched hissing streaming from it alerted me as to why.

"Tanya?" I mouthed to him unnecessarily.

He nodded pitifully.

"I'm going to take Em on a walk and allow him to let off some of this steam."

Seth nodded absently at me, his face down, his eyes pinched shut.

I slapped Emmett on the nose lightly when he wouldn't move. He glared up at me reproachfully and planted himself harder against the floor. I tightened my hold on the leash and, with a heave, I hauled him out the front door.

Emmett whined viciously and tugged back in the direction of the building.

"What's gotten into you? Stop!"

I pulled him farther down the street. He was going to get this out of his system, stubbornness be damned.

Farther and farther we went, no destination or plan before us. We just wandered, Emmett altering between freezing and struggling harder with every step.

I had tried walking in a couple patches of grass next to the sidewalk, hoping to cajole him into going to the bathroom, thinking that maybe _that_ might be the problem.

No dice.

I couldn't find out what he needed. So we just kept walking.

In doing so, we walked so far that we were soon deep into the heart of Seattle, _far_ from the apartment. But I figured as long as Emmett was straining to get away, we were going to keep walking.

I pulled the collar of my jacket up around my neck in an attempt to keep warm. The sun had long since set, and I was beginning to consider just giving up and taking him back to home.

I shook my head at myself. I knew how bad Emmett could get in one of these moods. I had to keep him moving.

We passed a florist shop, its scent wafting into the street. I stopped the near-futile tug-of-war with Emmett to admire the dizzying array of flowers displayed in window.

Roses, Lilies, Daisies, Poppies . . . _Tulips. _

Oh, Tulips. I vaguely remembered a big flower bed off the back deck of my old home. A familiar, loving face tending to the shocking amount of tulips spread throughout. _Renee loved tulips _. . .

I sighed.

An adolescent girl darted from the shop, the door swinging open and releasing a cacophony of smells that was almost dizzying.

In her arms, she carried possibly over a dozen different bouquets. They overflowed from her grasp. I would have bet that they even obscured her view.

She walked in my direction, and I moved to step around her since she obviously couldn't see me.

But I wasn't watching Emmett.

In his most violent jerk yet, he snapped away from me, launching himself and pulling me directly into the path of the oblivious girl.

We collided with a resounding _thwack_, her flowers dropping from her already dubious grasp and scattering all along the sidewalk.

I couldn't pay attention to her cry of annoyance, for when I had run into her, I had let go of Emmett's leash.

Emmett, now free of the restricting leather, took off like a bat out of hell, barreling down the street.

I panicked and scrabbled to my feet. "_EMMETT!_" I screamed at him. He didn't even flinch, not breaking his furious stride. He turned, his form disappearing around a corner.

My eyes instantly filled with painful tears. I swallowed painfully and tried to remind myself that he was wearing his collar with all his information. If he didn't wander back on his own, someone would find him and call me.

Still, that knowledge didn't erase the sting.

Shaking my head, I returned to the task at hand. The young girl was scrambling on the concrete to collect the foliage.

"I'm sorry," I breathed in a shaky voice and offered to help her.

She slapped at my hand when I reached for a bouquet. "Just leave it alone!" She snapped.

She gathered up the last of them and stood with a huff, giving me one last contemptuous glare before stomping off.

"I'm sorry," I tried one last time.

I wasn't really surprised when she gave me the finger.

I sighed and turned to start looking for Emmett. After a few steps forward, my foot came in contact with a crunching item. Startled, I bent down to see another bouquet.

"Hey, you forgot one!" I called to the girl, who upon inspection had already disappeared.

I shrugged and turned back and picked it up. It was so tightly wrapped up in paper I couldn't even tell what type of flower it was.

Needing some type of joy tonight, I pulled the wrapping paper back, layer by layer. When the last bit was tugged away, it revealed . . .

_Gardenias._

Unbidden, Alice's haunting voice floated through my mind.

"_Bella, don't go near gardenias."_

_I laughed, startled. "Why? I don't have any allergies to them." _

_She shook her head. "When I was looking, I kept getting a picture of gardenias, and I sensed a malicious tone."_

I looked at the beautifully waxy green leaves and touched the feather-soft petals.

"_They carried a malicious tone_ . . ."

I wanted to laugh at myself for the whispering chill of fear that tickled my spine. Since when was I superstitious?

No longer interested with the pretty flowers, I walked to the nearest trash can and tossed the entire bouquet into it. I didn't feel bad about throwing away a fifty-dollar bouquet. The girl had obviously forgotten about it anyway.

Bundling my hands together in attempt for warmth, I started my search for Emmett. I followed the path he had taken and called out to him. His name would echo off the buildings back to me mockingly.

"Emmett!" I yelled, desperate. "C'mon, this isn't funny anymore!" I stood stock still. There wasn't a sound anywhere, from shops, cars, anything. Not a sound was to be heard. It was if the falling snow muffled the entire earth.

I single tear slipped from my eye. I turned around, ready to go home.

The soft scuffle was all I heard.

It was my only warning.

Looking back, how I wish I had not thought, simply ran.

A rough hand crashed down over my mouth, effectively smothering my startled scream. It clenched over my lips and nose as an arm snaked around my waist. I felt my body being tugged toward one of the empty alleys.

My breathing hitched and stopped.

Black dots pricked my vision.

Lips touched the shell of my ear, disgusting breath fanned over my cheek.

"I finally have you," it whispered...almost _lovingly_.

I screamed into his palm.

* * *

><p><strong>Dun dun dun! Sorry, but I absolutely adore suspense. And I'm going to be nice and update very soon so you don't have to wait too long. <strong>

**Drop me a comment to tell me how you feel? ;)**


	9. Snap

**A.N.: Sooooo. I didn't update like I said I would. Um. Don't kill me? :) **

**Super amounts of love to my awesome, earth-shattering, kick-butt, crazy-talented, incredible beta, CassandraLowery. I made an _incredibly_ embarrassing mistake, and she completlely fixed it, without complaint! She's an angel. Go check out her stuff! **

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Stephenie Meyer. I just play with her toys.**

* * *

><p>~Playlist~<p>

"Ghost" by Blue Foundation.  
>"Mad World" by Gary Jules.<p>

* * *

><p>Shut up! Shut up!" The nasal voice hissed violently. I began to feel the restricting arms tug me backwards, and I wasn't sure where he was leading me...until I saw a small, nondescript car waiting by the side of the road.<p>

If I remembered anything my mother ever told me, it was to never get in the car with a stranger. _"Never let anyone take you from Point A to Point B,"_ her delicate voice drifted through my terrified psyche. _"That will be the place they kill you."_

She had been so blunt that it had stuck in my young brain. Now I was reliving her words violently.

With renewed adrenaline, I kicked and and thrashed against the restraining hands for all I was worth.

"Shhh...you'll be okay," he tried to soothe gently.

_Like hell I was._

I fought to remember all the self-defense moves my father had taught me when I was young.

In a quick move, I slammed the heel of my right foot back, connecting with his bony shin. He grunted and hunched in pain. I felt the hand over my mouth loosen slightly, and I took my chance. His middle finger slipped into my mouth, and I bit it as hard as I could.

Vile blood exploded into my mouth, and he roared in furious agony. Shaking off his arms, I bolted forward, only making it a few steps before I saw his shadow engulf mine. His arm wrapped around my waist, steel-like in his vice.

"You're not going anywhere, love."

I felt something hard hit the back of my skull, black dots erupting in front of my eyes.

I blacked out.

.

~)o(~

.

The smell of body odor and mint assaulted my nose.

I felt heavy arms lift me from where I sat, carrying me forward.

Jesus . . . I had to open my eyes . . . why couldn't I?

It felt like I had lost all control over my body. I felt so weak and tired. I debated with myself if I could go back to sleep. . . just for a minute. . . .

"Hang on, we're almost home," a voice murmured into my ear. A voice I didn't recognize.

That woke me up.

I fought to open my weary eyes, and when they did open, I could only keep them that way for a moment or two; I only saw quick flashes.

Dirty, dingy walls surrounded me. Clothes and trash littered the floor and hallways. Beer cans were dumped around without care.

I was being tugged up a flight of stairs, a pair of hands biting into my hips roughly, sure to leave bruises. I blinked back at the person groggily and was rewarded with a familiar face. Mousy brown hair. A pair of glasses sliding down his nose. Beady brown eyes. From where did I know this person? I struggled weakly against him.

He chuckled breathlessly. "Ah, you're awake. Good, I was starting to get worried I had hurt you."

Hurt me? I remembered someone grabbing me, and then I screamed in terror, my cries bouncing off the walls. "Now why are you doing that? Calm down," he demanded, his voice exasperated.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I? What's happening?"

His thin lips curled down at the edges, his brows pushing together. "You really don't remember me? That's quite a shame," he continued walking down the trashed hallway.

"Would it help if I gave you a hint?" he asked, his scary eyes twinkling down at me as if I would actually answer. I stared back at him.

He grinned a wide smile, revealing crooked, yellowing teeth. "My name is Marcus."

I waited for one of those amazing realization moments, one that rocks your body to its core.

It didn't happen.

He was nearing one of the doors, and my panic kicked into high gear. I began spewing pleas. "Please, whatever you want. I'll give you whatever you want. I'll pay you whatever ransom you want, just please, let me go."

He slowed to a stop, and I glanced up at him nervously. His eyes were wide and incredulous, staring back at me. Then, with a terrifying boom, he began to laugh. Deep, heavy, belly-laughter. It bounced off the dirty walls and rang in my ears hauntingly. He was laughing so hard that tremors were running through my body from his holding me. For a moment, I thought he would drop me.

Regaining himself, he straightened back up, me still– unfortunately–in his grasp. He looked down at me playfully. "Oh love, I forget sometimes that you're such a joker. You're going to brighten this home so much." Then he leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against mine. His five o'clock shadow felt like broken glass against my adrenaline-fueled hyper-sensitive skin.

I jerked away from him as far as I could, resisting the urge to scrub the skin on my cheek away. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want any money," he said as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. He looked down at my quivering form and smiled. "All I want is _you_."

It felt as if the oxygen in my lungs was being sucked out.

His smile widened at me, and he unexpectedly put me on my numb feet, pulling me close to him by my arm. I wobbled dubiously for a moment, and I was sure I was going to fall. Without care about my balance–or lack thereof–he pulled me the last few steps to the end of the hall where we stood in front of a door.

He opened it and shoved me through, making me trip over my own feet.

The room was so dark that it took my eyes a painfully long time to adjust. Heavy curtains blocked out the minor amount of moonlight trying to trickle through the window. More debris was scattered on the floor. The large, unmade bed informed me that this was probably his bedroom, but I couldn't focus on that fact or on the dangers it promised.

My useless struggles stilled immediately upon seeing the walls.

_Oh, god._

Littered along the walls was _me_. Pictures decorated every open surface on the walls, even the ceiling. Hazy pictures that were out of focus. Photos taken of me while I was in my car, at my job, walking into my apartment, taking Emmett out on a walk, even one where I was laying in bed at the hospital after the car accident.

With sudden, stomach-twisting realization, my world narrowed down to one thought. One epiphany.

_No_.

I felt his body standing behind me, hanging over me like a dark cloud. I silently prayed I was wrong.

I took a long, deep breath, tasting every stale dust-mote that hung in the a ir.

I slowly turned around, my eyes raking along the floor-boards to his feet. I dragged them up his body, too afraid to know the truth.

My eyes reached his chin, and after a long moment, I looked up, coming face-to-face with his smirking face.

It couldn't be. It just. . .wasn't possible.

I was right.

Mark. _Marcus_. Suddenly, the mousey brown hair and glasses were all too familiar.

He was working with Carlisle. He was the other doctor he was arguing with in the hallway outside my door about Alice, saying that I shouldn't be there.

Oh, no. Oh, _no_.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Time seemed to almost cease.

Without a word or warning, he picked me off the ground and literally _threw_ me onto the bed. My head bounced off the mattress with the force, and I gasped in pain. It throbbed where he had hit me.

Not a moment later, he was on top of me, holding me down as I fought to get off.

"You're absolutely crazy!" I screeched, swinging my arms, trying to find purchase against his skin. He held back my arms and pinned them to the bed. I knew he was going to leave bruises on my wrists. His grip caused painful tears to spring to my eyes.

His hands changed in their vengeance, taking on a different tone. The biggest bolt of terror I had felt yet flashed through me when he reached for the buttons on my shirt. I screeched louder and flailed my legs out, aiming for his shins again. He neatly dodged them this time and continued on deftly.

"Please, don't!" I sobbed.

One of his hands drifted back to my face, delicately brushing the hair back. "Shhh, baby. I love you so much," his eyes shone with delirious adoration. "I'll make you feel so good."

With that, he pushed me farther back into the mattress, his frustrated hands finally ripping open my shirt. His hands pawed at my chest painfully.

_What do I do? Good god, what do I do?_

His mouth left a slobbery trail down the side of my neck. I could feel the sensuality he _thought_ he was exuding, but it came out as pure slime.

Reaching the base of my throat, I felt his lips against my skin curve up into a twisted smile.

He kissed my skin once before sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh over my collar bone.

I screamed, more in surprise than pain. I knew he had bitten hard enough to break the skin by the warm trickling down my chest.

Marcus nuzzled at it for a minute before rearing his head back and smashing his lips to mine. I tasted my own rusty blood on his lips and torrential tears poured down my face.

_Just keep breathing. Focus. _

He pulled back, his crazed eyes boring into mine. "You have no idea how long I've waited," he groaned, smiling maliciously. "Watching you everyday, not being able to talk to you or touch you. . . ." He emphasized his statement by running a finger down my cheek; I wanted to bite it off.

"Ever since I saw you at the hospital, I needed to have you. To love you. And now I can." Without another word, he slammed his mouth to mine, his tongue forcing my mouth open. His vile breath, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, invaded my mouth. I had to choke back my bile.

His hands picked up in frequency again, this time moving south. He tugged at the button and zipper of my pants, growling in irritating when they didn't come right off.

I hit and kicked at him for all I was worth, which wasn't much apparently. My arms must have been made out of Play-Doh for all the pain they were inflicting on him. He didn't even blink.

He finally got through the zipper and the button, and he jerked my pants down, his finger nails scratching all the way down my legs. I hissed in pain.

He snarled when he looked back up to see my underwear still hanging onto my hips. His disgusting hands wrapped around the fabric and was about to rip it off.

The shrill ring of a telephone froze both of us. My struggles stopped, and his hands stilled.

Our eyes locked for only a moment, and he made the biggest mistake he could have made.

He looked at the phone.

Seeing my only chance, I wriggled my arm up from under his grasp and slammed my elbow up to his face, hearing the satisfying _crunch_ of his front teeth being broken. My elbow immediately erupted in pain, and I could feel the open gashes where his crooked teeth cut into the thin skin.

He howled in pain, his hands going straight to his destroyed mouth. I planted my knee as hard as I could into his groin, placing the final nail in the coffin.

He grunted and half-rolled off of me, and I pushed him completely off. I scrambled away from the nasty bed and darted to the door, staggering and tripping over my feet the entire way. I heard the beer cans scatter as I trampled over them, their sound amplified by my fear, making them seem a thousand times louder.

My searching hands finally found the blessed door, and I hurriedly jerked it open as I heard the bed springs groan ominously, signaling his chase.

I tore through the crowded hallway, screaming bloody murder as I went. I couldn't debate with myself whether to try to keep quiet so that Marcus wouldn't know where I was, or if I should try to make as much noise as possible so that others could hear me.

Were there other people in the house? Panic splintered in my stomach as I questioned if they could be like Marcus.

_No, I can't think like that_ , I chanted to myself. _Just keep moving. Just get outside._ I could run to a neighbors' house; they would help me.

I saw the stairs skitter into my view, and I almost fell to the floor and wept. God, just a little further. I was almost out of there.

The tips of my fingers had just barely brushed the banister when a pair of hands gripped my hair and yanked me backwards. I yelped as a steel arm wrapped around my waist.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, baby?" His tongued darted out and licked the shell of my ear. "That was a dirty trick you played on me. I think you're going to have to pay for that." He used the hand wrapped in my hair to twist my head painfully to the side, giving him access to my neck. He bit it harshly.

"Get off me!" I jerked away from his hold, his teeth raking across the thin skin of my neck and his arm scratching me as it let go.

I flung myself away from him, inadvertently losing my balance with the sharp movements. I saw the edge of the stairs and immediately knew I was going to fall down them. I just couldn't stop my momentum in time.

I held my breath.

The fall seemed never ending. It felt as though I hit every last step. The edge of a stair bit deep into my side while my knee crashed into another. Pain radiated throughout me.

I fell into a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, apparently a lifeless wreck. For a moment, I was almost disappointed that I wasn't dead. Maybe he would have left me alone. Would he leave me alone now?

His terrified gasp informed me otherwise. "Isabella, are you all right?" His hurried footsteps came barreling down towards me. I almost wanted to laugh at his concern when he was the one who had caused this. But I couldn't.

I knew I only had seconds.

I scrambled up to my feet, my knee searing with pain. I was almost positive that it was broken.

I limped out into the foyer with amazing speed despite my injured leg, and nearly cried with relief when I saw the front door. Never had I seen a more beautiful sight.

I battled through it, knowing he was hot on my trail. But for a moment, piercing fear and stil ting shock had me freezing on the porch.

The entire house was surrounded by trees.

Forest stretched on forever in every direction. God knows which way a fucking road was or how long it would even take to reach one.

I could easily lose him in the foliage. But I could just as easily get severely, _severely_ lost.

But I had no choice.

Without another moment wasted, I launched myself into the woods. I crashed through the trees, their limbs scratching and tearing at the exposed skin on my neck, shoulders, chest and arms, leaving them raw.

I felt a sickening swell of deja vu curl inside my stomach. I was suddenly a young child, sitting in my mother's lap while I watched _Snow White_. I had watched, riveted in terror as the fair beauty ran for her life, the evil trees clawing after her.

_How had I turned into her?_

I tasted fresh blood as my lip was split by a branch that whipped across my face. I couldn't even cry out. Marcus was just too close. I could hear his thunderous pursuit behind me.

The bolt of panic and its resulting burst of adrenaline helped me to charge forward even faster.

I didn't even consider trying to silence my movements. If I slowed at all to quieten the sound of branches and leaves crunching under my bare feet, he'd catch me in no time. I had to keep moving.

I wovemore quickly through the trees, trying to lose him. The forest was astounding. It was thick and lush and dark, and I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I could have been going even deeper into the woods for all I knew. A sob stuck in my aching throat.

I tripped over a thick root jutting from the ground, toppling to my hands and knees. I felt a sharp stick stab into my side; I bit my bloodied lip to keep from screaming in agony.

On my hands and knees, I crawled behind a thick tree trunk. I huddled up in the shadow of it, my knees pulled tight to my chest, my breaths heaving.

I could feel blood running from the many injuries on my body, and I knew that if Marcus didn't kill me, my wounds eventually would.

I pressed my hand tightly against the back of my head where I felt the most blood gushing. The entire back of my head was drenched, my hair matted to my skull with the sticky substance.

I pulled my hand away and closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, I cried.

I cried for the death of my parents.

I cried for my miserable childhood.

I cried for my dog.

I cried for the fact that I would never see my friends again.

And I cried for my impending death.

I opened my tear-sodden eyes to see the moon, shining so incredibly bright. I had never seen the moon so full or so beautiful or noticed how the stars framed it so perfectly.

_Why did people only notice the small, beautiful things in the world when they suddenly _couldn't_ anymore? _I wondered absently.

I thought of all the things I hadn't done, the things I hadn't said to the people who meant the most to me. I wondered what Carlisle would think when he realized I had disappeared.

I wondered if they would ever find my body.

I sighed heavily, but abruptly stopped.

My breath caught in my throat when I heard footsteps approach.

From entirely too close to me, I heard branches snapping and a pair of lungs heaving.

I prayed with all of my being that he would have a heart attack.

Even if I hadn't heard his approach, I would have known that he was there. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall just feeling him around me. My stomach twisted into a tight ball of fear.

He walked by slowly, almost silently, and I squished harder against the side of the tree, trying to be as small as possible. He stood stock still, obviously listening carefully in order to discover where I was. I slowly counted in my mind to keep track of time.

For almost five minutes, we stayed in this horrifying limbo. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. I remained hidden, taking shallow, silent breaths as my heart beat thunderously in my chest. I was surprised he didn't hear it.

I was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen into my deprived lungs, and the amount of blood I was losing wasn't helping, either.

The sickening anticipation of waiting to be found was going to kill me. I couldn't continue to stare at the small small patch of moss in front of my feet any longer.

Taking the biggest risk yet, I leaned over and peeked around the trunk.

His back was mostly facing me, but I could see part of his face. A sickening smile spread across the side I could see.

"I can smell you, Isabella," he said unexpectedly, his voice a soft hiss. "You have the most glorious smell, like flowers and sunshine. I _will_ find you, my girl."

He took a few steps forward, away from where I sat, hidden. He walked slowly, cautiously. He reached the tree in front of him and looked behind it.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are. . . ."

My heart dropped into my feet.

Oh, please, _no_.

He strolled to another tree and quickly ducked behind it. He straightened back up and walked to another. Again he looked around it and went to another. This sick game of hide-and-seek continued until he had looked behind all of the trees except one.

_Mine._

I had already ducked back behind the trunk, cowering in the shadow caused by the bright moonlight. I lost sight of him, but I knew he was coming.

"I can taste your fear," he crooned, his voice dangerously near. "There's no need to be afraid. We'll be so happy together. . . ."

Visions of him abducting me, beating me, killing me flashed through my mind. I had to push my trembling fist against my mouth to contain my sobbing whimper.

"Isabella. . . ." My name traveled on the wind, his voice right next to the tree. The hair on my arms raised in absolute dread.

It was over.

A sharp branch snapping in the trees away from me froze his breath. His taunts died on his lips, and I saw his head snap in the direction of the sound. His shadow stood up abruptly, and he took off towards the noise, leaving me.

A beat passed.

Another.

His footsteps completely disappeared.

I swallowed my sob of relief and quickly peered around the trees. He wasn't anywhere.  
>I sighed, slumping against the tree.<br>A hand ripped me up by my hair. My scream echoed through the trees.

"Oh, my dear," he breathed against my cheek. "Where do you think _you're_ going?" He hauled me around in his arms, towards the vague direction of the house I had fled from.

He continued on. "That was a pretty good trick with the limb out in the woods. How did you do that? You'll certainly be fun."

I cried and struggled weakly. It felt like my muscles had been injected with lead.

"Shhh," he soothed, and I felt something cool and sharp against my neck. A razor blade glinted in the low moonlight filtering in through the leaves.

I whimpered and tried to wiggle away from him and the knife.

He pushed my hair back behind my ear. "S'okay," he murmured softly.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. "Please, just let me go. If you really love me," I choked on the words, "You'll let me leave."

Marcus was shaking his head before I finished speaking. "No, I can't do that. You'll just end up hurting yourself again like you did to your head."

His hand in my hair started prodding my skull, tugging at the gash he created. I almost blacked out at the agony.

I tried again. "Will you at least put the knife down?" I begged, staring deep into his eyes.

"No, it's for our protection. Who knows what could be out in these woods?"

Nothing worse than what was in front of me right then.

Marcus's eyes glinted with devious joy. "Are you afraid of weapons, love?" he asked, holding the blade close to my face. I couldn't possibly answer.

He ran it softly along my jaw from my ear to my chin. Back and forth.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew that this would be the end. I couldn't believe I was going to die there, then. A single, final tear made its path down my face.

A snarl ripped through the dead calm silence.

Marcus screamed in agony, suddenly releasing his hold on my hair. For a moment, I was almost confused by the unexpected absence pain.

I numbly looked down, and once again I was shocked to my core.

Before my very eyes, my beautiful dog reappeared. Emmett's glistening teeth sunk deep into Marcus's thigh, thick streams of blood staining the denim.

"_Emmett!_" I screamed. I had never felt more conflicted than in that moment. I didn't know whether to be overjoyed at having him by my side again or terrified that my dog was now in mortal danger.

Marcus howled and spun, trying to shake Em off, but Emmett remained latched onto his leg with a tenacity that rivaled that of most humans.

Marcus's arms were flailing in a windmill motion, yet he still kept his grip on his knife somehow. The moonlight reflected off of it disturbingly as it whipped around.

I knew I had to get the knife away from him. I saw a small opening in his movements, and I lunged, wrapping both hands around his wrist and trying to wrestle the blade away from him.

"Isabella, wha– ?" His disoriented words were cut off by another gurgling scream. Emmett was whipping his head back and forth, tearing at the destroyed skin. I gagged at the sound of ripping flesh.

With a piercing roar, Marcus swung his arm around, crashing into my side. The force of his blow propelled me away from him, forcing meto the cold ground, a sharp branch cutting deeply into my palm.

Emmett snarled viciously at Marcus as the dog jerkedeven harder on his leg.

"Bastard!" Marcus hissed, and to my absolute horror, his arm lashed out.

It was like in the movies. My world shrank down to tunnel vision, hyper-focused on my ultimate nightmare.

"_NO!_"

The blade sliced through the air, locked on its target, Sinking deeply into Emmett's side.

Emmett let out a strangled howl as I screamed again. But it sounded like it came from far away; my ears felt like they were filled with water.

Marcus pulled the knife from Emmett's body before rearing back and stabbing him again.

I barely flinched. My eyes were locked on Emmett's still form.

Marcus didn't stab him again. He pulled the blade back and kicked Emmett's lifeless body away from him.

Marcus stood facing Emmett, glaring down at his body while he panted heavily.

My eyes numbly went to the sharp thick branch beside me, the one that had cut my palm.

I knew what had to be done.

I didn't hesitate.

With a grace and speed I didn't know I had, I ripped the branch from the ground, charged across the small space between us, and drove the sharp, jagged end of the stick into his shoulder.

With a screech, he fell to the ground.

I planted my foot in the center of his back, pulling the branch from his body. I slammed it back down into his back, closer to his neck this time.

Birds fled from their nests as his terrified scream echoed throughout the forest.

I pulled the sharp stick from his back once more, but I tugged too hard. It snapped in half, part of it still sticking into his flesh.

I lost my balance when it broke, falling onto the unforgiving forest floor again. In a morbid haze that clouded my mind, I looked for another deadly weapon to end him with. I scoured the ground, looking for another branch, a heavy rock, anything.

It was in this search that my hand came across something hard and cold. I picked it up, inhaling sharply.

It was his knife. When I had stabbed with the stick him, he had flung it away as he fell.

I smiled.

Rising carefully to my feet, I began the short walk to Marcus where he lay bleeding and moaning on the snowy ground. Each step toward him felt like an eternity.

I stood over him, and for a moment, I basked in his agony. This was the bastard who for _weeks_ had haunted my dreams, made me look over my shoulder in paranoia, forced me to huddle in my room, terrified.

He had taken me from my home, nearly killed me, and murdered my dog.

It was time for him to feel pain.

I raised my arm above my head, the knife pointing down squarely at his neck. _All I would have to do is get to his jugular. . . . _

Poised and ready to kill, I held the blade high.

I closed my eyes,breathing in once, twice.

"_Don't!_"

My eyes snapped open. They swept along the woods, but I didn't see anything. Marcus hadn't made that plea. Who said that?

"_Bella, don't!_" There it was again. I lowered the knife, holding it at my side as I looked around.

The voice bounced around inside my head again. _"Bella, it's not worth it. Please, just run away,_" it pleaded.

I knew I had lost my mind. There was no other explanation. But as the dulcet tones rang inside my ears, I couldn't help but listen.

"_Run, Bella._"

I couldn't. I looked over to Emmett's body, and it just laid there. Lifeless. I couldn't leave him. Emmett was. . . .

"_Run!_"

With a choking sob, I finally did as I was told. I dropped the knife, leaving Marcus alive, and ran. I had never run so hard in all my life, not even moments ago from Marcus. I ran until my muscles felt as if they pumped battery acid, incinerating my veins. But still, I didn't stop. I couldn't.

In those moments, crashing through trees and blinding darkness, I ran from everything in my life: watching my house go up in flames...my parents; deaths...Esme's hate...car accidents...stalkers...my dog's death..._myself_.

I became the darkness around me. My bare feet dissolved into the snowy ground beneath me as I fled.

In my horrified flight, I found myself questioning God. I wanted to laugh at myself for the path my mind hand taken. But regardless of it all, I thought about it as I ran.

Ever since I was young, I had never believed in God. _Surely no being would inflict such pain on an innocent_, I reasoned with myself, justifying myself in my hatred. But for the first time in over a decade, as I ran into oblivion, I prayed. I prayed to anything or anyone who would hear me. I didn't even know what I was asking for; I just wanted everything to go back to normal.

I just didn't want to die.

I broke through a gathering of trees, immediately skidding to a stop. I was standing in a small meadow. Snow blanketed the ground, creating an undisturbed sea of white. It muffled all the other sounds on earth.

For a moment, I wondered if this place was going to be my grave. My blood was flowing freely from every wound from running, yet there was still no signs of a road or civilization in sight, I was out of energy and had lost the will to keep fighting.

So I simply gave up.

As I stood in the clearing, the wind and snow picking up with a vengeance, I accepted my death. There was just nothing else I could do.

I wondered if anyone would ever find my body. I wondered what Carlisle, Sara, or Rosalie would do. I was going to miss them.

An angry sound tore through my ears. I flinched at the unexpected sound, then raised my head.

My eyes drifted across the powder, locking on a foreign figure.

A boy stood in the falling snow.

He wore no shirt, no shoes. A simple pair of pants rested on his hips. In my disoriented haze, I felt sorry for the boy. I wanted to give him a coat, perhaps mine. I reached to slide it off my shoulders, but my hands came in contact with my bare skin. I wasn't wearing my coat. Was that why I was so cold? I looked down to see my naked chest, marred and from cuts.

I think I laughed a little.

I turned back to the boy, ready to apologize for not giving him some form of clothing when I saw his face. The words withered in my throat like a delicate orchid on a blistering day.

The boy was stunning.

And he was _livid_.

His hair was a shock of smoldering flames, coppery and warm. I had never seen skin as pale as his;it looked like the snow beneath our feet.

His face was beautiful enough to make an artist weep. With high cheek bones, a strong jaw, and lips like two soft rose petals,everything about the boy was smooth, unblemished.

But his eyes are what made me gasp. Those orbs were the most shocking color of golden I had ever seen...as if someone had melted the sun and poured it into his eyes. They burned with an intensity that rocked me to my core.

Anger, blistering hot, shone from them.

And in that moment, I knew.

_I had always known_.

I put my hand to my forehead and began to laugh...manic, horrified laughs.

Memories and thoughts flashed through my mind faster than I could process. It was like watching a movie on fast-forward.

But even as I was assaulted by more than I could comprehend, there was _one_ thing I did know.

Oh, how I knew.

I should never have denied it. Looking back on it now, it was so obvious. But I had been so stubbornly blind, and now it would cost me greatly.

I'd had so many close brushes with death, especially recently. It was surprising that I had even survived: car accidents, fires, stalkers. But I had lived through it all. _Someone's watching out for you_, people kept saying. Oh, how I had laughed at them, never taking them seriously. To believe them would be to accept the reality of a higher power, and I couldn't do that. After years of torture, I had long since given up on the idea that anything or anyone would protect me.

I laughed at myself in dismay. I had constantly refused the opinions of people who said that I was being watched; in fact, I had ridiculed the idea mercilessly.

_There was no such thing_was my mantra in life.

I swayed in place, my hysterical laughter bouncing off the muted meadow, eery and unnerving.

"There was no such thing," I murmured, chuckling. "There _is_ no such thing!"

But what if there was?

What if all my life I had denied and rejected it, but it was always there for me?

_Snap._ My last shred of sanity ripped and broke. _Snap._

As I stood in the cold forest that was going to become my grave, I questioned this epiphany. What if there were some things people simply couldn't prevent? What if, instead of being abandoned, someone was there, fighting off the accidents, the fires, the criminals? What if, after years of being ridiculed and ignored by me, that protective being finally became upset?

I raised my dazed eyes to the boy, locking my gaze with his. I wanted to apologize, to say anything.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't ponder the idea for very long, either. Across the wintery ground, the figure began to shake and tremble with unmistakable fury.

I smiled sadly at him.

I knew.

The angel's shoulders tensed before he sprung at me, flying over the snow faster than my eyes could see.

I closed my eyes.

_Snap._


	10. On Temporary Hiatus Notice

Dear readers,

I sincerely apologize if you got excited when you saw the "new chapter" alert in your in-boxes, or if you are a new reader, when you clicked the "next chapter" button. Sadly, this is not a new chapter, but rather a waving of the proverbial white flag. My real life has become ridiculously chaotic, in both good ways and bad, but chaotic nonetheless. Needless to say, that has left me with no time to write, - let alone read - fanfiction. I haven't written anything down in over eight months, which _kills_ me to say.

I'm posting this "chapter" here for all the new readers who will be happily clicking along, not knowing that the story is over for now. I get a lot of messages asking when I'll be updating, and it pains me to message them back saying that I honestly don't know. It could be in week, it could be in three years. I truly don't know when I'll have free time again to write. So I'll have this "On Temporary Hiatus" notice up until I find the time to finish the story.

I can say with perfect clarity that I _will_ finish this story, just that I don't know when. But I _will_. One day. And when I do, I will remove this notice and replace it with the rightful chapter. The one you guys _wanted_ to see.

To all the friends and people I have met and made here in the FF world, I will deeply miss you while I'm gone. I _have_ missed you all like crazy. I never knew how much reading and writing fanfiction had meant to me until I didn't have it anymore.

Thank you all so much for your love and support. It has meant the world to me. And I will happily await the day when I can return to being a part of the FF family once more!

Until then,

- Natalia.


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